With The Devil By My Side
by Far Away In Wonderland
Summary: AU: Lucifer escaped the cage, but his escape cost him dearly, leaving him behind nearly powerless. Dean was just abandoned by both his father and Sam when he nearly ran over a man suddenly appearing on the street. Nursing him back to health and letting him accompany him on his hunts, will Dean be able to change Lucifers view on humanity? [Pre-series, after Sam leaves for Stanford]
1. Lost Man Found (Betaed)

The moment that changed Dean Winchester´s life forever occurred at a nameless place on a nameless road somewhere in Oregon.

Dean had driven straight for hours, never actually bothering to check where he was – or where he was going. Towns passed by in a blur, obscure like their inhabitants who lived their normal and boring lives, completely unaware of the evil that lingered outside their pretty, well-kept houses with their white fences and regulations on how high to grow the grass.

Dean could have been part of this 'apple-pie life'. He would have a mother, still alive; a father, who wasn't just an empty shell of his former self and a brother who wouldn't leave his family for some fancy lawyer university at the first opportunity.

But his chance at that life had been destroyed the moment the yellow-eyed demon had murdered their Mum, impaled her to the ceiling of Sammy´s nursery and set their house alight.

His father, seeing the love of his life burning on the ceiling, had lost himself. Gone was the man who told Dean about his adventures as Marine, who would smile at him and explain every part of a car engine to a three-year old. Instead, he was replaced by a man who had to drink to keep the nightmares at bay. A man who searched out and ruthlessly destroyed anything non-human. A man who began teaching his two young sons shooting and hand-to-hand combat.

But nevertheless, Dean loved his dad. He had taken care of him and Sam, even though his world had been torn apart by the supernatural, and always watched out for them, making sure no monster would get to them.

If only Sam would see it that way.

The last fight had been the worst. Things were said which should have never seen the light of the day. Sam and his dad, standing at the opposite sides of the motel room they had been staying in, screaming and throwing insults at each other. Dean had to watch helplessly as his only remaining family tore each other apart and it made his heart bleed.

Because for Dean, family was everything and he couldn't comprehend how this could have happened, how he had never seen it coming.

Sam had stormed out of the room, his father yelling at him to never dare come back, and Dean just sat there and stared at his shaking hands, trying to reign in the emotions that were about to overwhelm him.

_Never show your emotion. _

_Emotions make you weak. _

_They allow the monsters to discover your weak points._

_Showing emotions means showing weakness. _

Dean could have screamed – at his father for not understanding, for being so controlling, and at Sam for his stubbornness and his ingrained reflex to always question their dad and his orders. But he did neither. He just sat there, on the edge of his motel bed and when his father spoke to him he just answered with a 'Yes, sir', devoid of any emotions.

Because emotions were weakness.

Dean wasn't weak.

His father told him that it was about time that they went their separate ways. Dean was old enough to hunt alone; they could cover more ground if they split up, meaning more leads on the yellow-eyed son of a bitch. Dean just nodded.

_I cannot bear to be near you._

_You just remind me of my failures._

_Sam left. When will you do the same?_

_You failed._

His dad didn't need to say anything. Dean knew very well that his most important duty was to protect Sam – and he had failed the moment Sam walked out the door for an 'apple pie' life in California. No wonder his dad wanted to be as far away as possible from the son who had let him down.

When his father, too, had left, it was not only the motel room that was empty. Dean was too. The place in his soul where the warmth of his family had nestled was empty. Dean was not one of this New-Age hippies, believing in soul connections and shit like that, but he had never felt so alone in his whole life. Not even in the aftermath of his mother´s death.

He left the motel when the manager ushered him out and suddenly, the Impala was the only thing he had left. The only thing that hadn´t deserted him. Always faithful, always there to carry the Winchester family safe and sound from one place to another. He sat behind the steering wheel and drove away without looking back. He never did.

Driving allowed Dean to be free. When the Impala raced over the highways of the United States, there were no limits. He could go wherever he wanted. There were no boundaries, no rules. No teachers judging him for his bad grades, deeming him a waste of taxpayers' money. No social workers who saw only the failure of society in him. No father demanding perfect performance in every situation, and no brother who constantly questioned him and his beliefs.

Just him and the purr of the Impala´s engine.

When Dean returned his thoughts back to the street ahead, he noticed that darkness had already settled in.

Dean hated nights with a passion rivalled only by his love for pies. Night was the time when the monsters crept out of their holes to prey on the innocent; when little boys lost their mothers to a demon; when young girls were abducted by vampires, leaving behind only empty corpses and when shtrigas sucked out the life energy of children who, a few hours ago, had been playing football with their friends.

No, Dean was definitely no friend of nights.

So it shouldn't have surprised him when a man suddenly appeared in front of his car.

"Shit!" Dean cursed and stomped in the brakes.

With a loud screech,the Impala came to a halt, throwing Dean against the steering wheel. Hot pain seared through Dean´s chest and it took a few seconds before everything stopped blurring in front of his eyes – nothing was broken, Dean realised as he moved stiffly, but these bruised ribs would be a pain in the ass the next few days.

But that was not his biggest concern. The man in the street – Dean had nearly run over him! Through the front window, Dean could see the man standing at the edge of the cone of light from his Impala, an expression of disbelief and wonder on his face.

From what Dean could see in the poor light, the man seemed to be in his twenties. He was as tall as Dean and wore washed out jeans with a few holes in them. His t-shirt was dark green in color over which he wore a dark-colored shirt. The man had sandy-brown hair, rather unkempt, and a beard in the same color which graced his tired and haunted-looking face. His blue eyes still looked quite disbelieving at the Impala, as if he couldn't believe that he was still alive.

Dean took that as cue to leave his car, but not without taking the silver knife, dosed in Holy Water, which he always had set aside in the Impala´s glove compartment. As fast as he could he opened the driver´s door and circled around the front of his car.

Dean stepped towards the man who still stood frozen where he had appeared on the street. Dean grabbed the man´s arm and pressed the silver knife against his skin without drawing blood. When nothing happened he released a relieved breath. The man meanwhile still seemed too confused to even try to resist Dean.

"You okay?" Dean asked partly in order to distract the man and partly because he really did not look healthy. The man just looked at him. He didn't answer.

"Okay," Dean said, scratching at the back of his head. "You aren't one to talk, are you? Can I have at least a name, buddy? And maybe I should drive you home, you do look rather scared." The man seemed to understand Dean, for he answered his question.

"My name is Luc…" and without finishing his sentence, he collapsed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: So this is a plot which haunted me for a long time while I worked at my other story. Reason is: There are many Dean/Castiel and Sam/Lucifer stories, but I have yet to read one with Dean/Lucifer. Bear in mind that I do not know if there will be any kind of romance in this story. Because, honestly, if you read what I consider romance you would probably commit suicide. Just ask my friends when we watch some romantic movies: I always point out how stupid the characters behave and what they do wrong and what they should do instead concerning their stupid love. It resulted in me banished from watching any romance ever again :D

Updates for this story will be very sporadic, for my main focus currently lays on my other story. I just had to write this one down, because it completely blocked my 'Well of Inspirations'.

If there isn't any impending Apocalypse or angels falling from Heaven, please take your time and leave a review, because the box where you should write it in just looks so empty when there is none


	2. Name Is Luke Browning (Betaed)

Lucifer could hear voices.

He couldn't make out what they were saying: it was as though the voices were coming from behind a closed door, their sound dulled, just a background humming breaking through the darkness that surrounded him.

He supposed that was a good sign.

But he should move; should open the eyes of his vessel in order to lessen his defencelessness. He attempted to open his eyes and to move his arms, but his vessel would not listen to his commands. It was as if there was a solid wall separating Lucifer´s consciousness from his body which prevented his will to be carried out. But the darkness did not recede; it stayed all-encompassing. He could do nothing but listen to the voices, not understanding anything they said. After a while they vanished, leaving him behind alone, and because he had nothing to cling onto, to help him out of the nothingness that surrounded him, he remembered.

He had never intended for it to go so far that blood would be spilled in Heaven. But he couldn't back down. He had to prove to his Father that the Angels were more worthy of His love than this vermin crawling over earth´s surface. He had to show Him that they were flawed while the angels were perfect and eternal. So he kept on fighting and killing like everyone else on his side did.

Then he was cast out of Heaven. Michael stood above him, despair, disgust and fury etched on his face, while he used the power their Father had lent to him to cast his own brother down to earth and further, into the deepest recesses of Hell.

And then the darkness came.

The Cage had been silent: dark and silent. The only thing he could do was to look up and see humanity crawling over the earth, tainting and defiling his Father´s precious creation. Walking on it like they owned it, like they had a right to what his Father had given them. So he refused to look up, refused to acknowledge that the world kept on spinning without him, that his own family had condemned him to this.

He had raged. He had unleashed fury and wrath upon the invisible walls of the Cage, so powerful that once whole continents would have been unmade by it. But the Cage just kept on existing, nothing indicating that one of the most powerful beings in existence wreaked havoc within it, what had just served as fuel for his anger.

After centuries of using every bit of his Grace against his prison, he became so tired. Sick and tired of being not able to achieve anything at all. He became lethargic and just laid on the ground, refusing to look upwards where the humans´ continuing existence constantly mocked him.

He didn't know how, why, or when it happened, but one day he felt that something had changed. It was like a being in a room which hadn´t been aired for a long time and now suddenly a window was open and a fresh breeze moved through it.

He went nearer and nearer to where he perceived this change to be. And when he was finally there, he couldn't really believe what he saw. A tiny spot of pure, white light, where usually the darkness prevailed.

He didn't know what it was, but without hesitation he began to pour his Grace into the light. He could feel it; he was slowly but surely escaping the Cage, escaping his prison, escaping the darkness, escaping the silence that had tormented him for so long.

Joy and elation rushed through him. Freedom was finally his.

* * *

><p>When the voices spoke again he could hear them clearer now, as if the filter between them and him had been somehow lifted.<p>

"He will wake up soon," a female voice said. Who would wake up? Angels did not have any need for sleep, so why should he 'wake up'?

"Could I be alone with him when he wakes?" another voice, male this time, asked. It was a rough voice, deep and growling. "He was really freaked out when I found him and I don't know what he´ll do if he wakes and finds so many people buzzing around him."

This stranger had found him? Where? And where was he now? He tried to open his eyes, but had no success. The body he inhabited didn't respond to his orders. Just having this thought made him angry. How could this stupid meat suit not obey his orders? He was the Morningstar himself, and he would not be stopped by something like that!

"His readings went through the roof!" the woman yelled. He could hear several people shouting orders and asking questions. A breeze of air grazed him due to people moving around him. "Give him something to calm him down, or he´ll have a seizure!"

He felt a needle penetrating his skin. A cold feeling spread from the puncture and the numbness spread everywhere, threatening to pull him back into oblivion. He tried to resist, but he wasn't strong enough. Darkness claimed him again.

* * *

><p>The next time Lucifer awoke, he was able to open his eyes – and he immediately regretted doing so. Everything was so white, shining and pristine. Just looking at it hurt his over-sensitive eyes.<p>

"Hey, you're awake," he heard someone saying. It was the voice of the man he had heard the last time he had risen from unconsciousness. Now that he was able to see, he sat up and could make out the stranger.

It was obviously a human male. He was rather tall, had dirty blond hair, green eyes and freckles around his nose. Furthermore, he wore a washed-out jeans, a plain green shirt and over it a black leather jacket.

Lucifer recognized that he was in a human hospital. How? Why didn't he heal like usual?

"Woah, dude, better keep lying down," the man said, rushing towards him and pressing him back down onto the bed.

Lucifer was livid. How dare this impotent insect lay fingers on him and order him what to do? He would smite him for his insolence! Without hesitation, Lucifer tried to call upon the power that would unmake this human only to be shocked into silence when nothing happened.

_But…how?_ Lucifer tried again to summon his Grace, but again nothing happened. There was no darkening sky, no lightening that would frighten this stupid human into submission. And then he could sense it: his Grace, once vaster than the biggest ocean, was nothing more than a pathetic puddle. How could this have happened? How could he have been reduced to…this?

He was torn out of his shock by the human who spoke up again.

"So, eh," he started and scratched his back of the head. "I don't know how much you remember, but I found you pretty fucked up on the street. Only thing I got was your first name, Luke or something like that, so I had you admitted as Luke Browning, my distant cousin."

"That was very…thoughtful of you," Lucifer said with indifference, not really caring.

While he would like nothing more than to kill this human and every representative of his pitiful race, Lucifer knew that, at least at the moment, he was in no state to do so. Furthermore, this human was his only source of information and he had to use that to his advantage if he wanted to form any kind of plan. He knew that he was prone to pride and anger, but mulling over his used-up Grace could wait until he had more information. After all, he was Lucifer, and he was nothing but cunning and logical.

"Was the least I could do," the human mumbled. "By the way, name´s Dean. Dean Winchester."

For the second time today Lucifer was shocked beyond measure. This human was the Righteous Man, his brother´s vessel? And he had saved him and admitted to a hospital! Lucifer nearly overlooked the outstretched hand and took it at the last moment, knowing it was a human gesture used in their societies to confirm a greeting.

"You seem rather proficient in guessing names," Lucifer reciprocated, "for my name is indeed Luke Browning." He might as well keep the name rather than go through the effort to get himself another one. Dean´s smile grew even wider.

"Awesome," he whistled. "Hey, I have to get the nurses; they said to call them the moment you woke up. I'll be back again!" He waved and left the room, leaving Lucifer alone to his contemplating.

Of all circumstances he would have imagined himself landing in, this was one which had never come to mind. Dean was obviously emotionally invested in his well-being, because he could have left the moment he had brought Lucifer to the hospital. Instead, he had chosen to stay by his side and to wait until he could speak with him. And even better: Dean could lead him to Sam Winchester, his true vessel.

After attaining his true vessel, he would have more freedom to make his move and start the whole Apocalypse without anyone noticing it. Earth would fall before the Heavenly Host would be able to respond. They probably thought him still to be imprisoned in hell.

Lucifer smiled a feral grin.

But first he had to gain Dean Winchester´s trust. This would make everything a lot easier, and Lucifer could persuade him against consenting to be Michael´s vessel. Without Michael in his true vessel, there would be no one but God Himself able to avert his plans. He just had to play his cards right. And the first step to making this all happen was to be friendlier to Dean when he came back.

A golden opportunity had presented itself, and Lucifer would use it.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: So here´s the second chapter. It came up sooner than I had anticipated. Some words on Lucifer: It was really hard to write him, for he is an archangel older than humanity and has rebelled against GOD, therefore making him a rather complicated character. Furthermore you cannot really describe him using human criteria: Theoretically for the time in the Cage he was just a 'wavelength of celestial intent' (love that one :D), but how do you describe the actions and feelings of something you cannot perceive properly? So I decided to use human analogies to describe him and what he did in the Cage.

Concerning Lucifer feeling 'joy and elation': Some of you might say that angels do not feel emotions, or aren't even able to do so. In my opinion that is wrong. I mean Lucifer rebelled against God because he felt envious of humanity and hated them; that are some pretty hardcore emotions wreaking havoc up there. And the angels in the series weren't even that devoid of emotions either. They feel disdain towards humans ('mud monkey' ringing any bells) and are arrogant and independent, because jumpstarting the Apocalypse isn't something you do if you aren't thinking and feeling for yourself.

If you ask yourself how Lucifer stumbled upon a vessel, because he obviously has one; this will be explained later. POVs will change at random. Sometimes Lucifer´s, sometimes Dean´s.

Those were my thoughts on the matter. You could write me yours in that empty box below where reviews should be put in :D


	3. Hospital Stay (Betaed)

Dean returned with a rather loquacious nurse.

Before Lucifer could comprehend what was about to happen to him, the nurse already was all over him, touching his forehead, checking his infusions and looking after the readings without actually stopping to talk.

"When Mr. Gorgeous brought you in, you were in rather bad shape," she chatted happily without noticing that Lucifer obviously was trying to incinerate her with his glare. Dean blushed when he heard the nickname the nurse´s had given him.

"All dehydrated and some other big words the doctors always use to show us they're better than us, only because they´ve studied in Harvard while normal people had to support their five siblings in a suburb in Detroit and barely graduated High School," she said, her grip on his arm became rather forceful.

Lucifer wondered if all human females where like this particular or if only he had been particularly misfortunate to ending up in her care. But Lucifer gathered Dean´s wasn't used to so much…bluntness – or at least, that's what Dean's pitying expression indicated. And pity was something Lucifer could use to manipulate Dean: the female had her use, Lucifer wouldn't try to end her; at least not now.

Although right now, her endless talking was slowly weakening his resolve.

"Be that as it may," the nurse continued, "Emily and I thought it was so romantic how he brought you in." She gave Dean a longing gaze. "Holding you in his arms, demanding that we take care of you." She sighed. "I wished I had a boyfriend like that. Oh, I bet the sex is so…hot and steamy and…"

Dean choked and stared at her with an expression of both horror and disbelief. Lucifer had to suppress a snort: leave it to the humans to jump to the wrong conclusions. Although, if what she had said was true, it indicated deeper emotional involvement on Dean's part than he had anticipated, which could be used to his advantage. Or perhaps it was simply in Dean´s nature to be caring for his fellow humans, which was highly likely, seeing that Dean was the Righteous Man.

"I´m not…how could you…totally wrong," Dean tried to say, but his mind was still too shocked from trying to comprehend how the nurse came up with all this to be able to form a coherent sentence.

"Don't worry," the nurse said and patted Dean´s cheek. "We don't judge you for it. As long as you're happy in your relationship – and you seem to be, if your entrance is anything to go by – you shouldn't worry about others."

Then her smile grew wider.

"But I totally have to tell Amanda," she said. "We have a bet going on. I said you were gay and your lover had been beaten up by some homophobe folks, whereas she was all about the two of you loving the same girl and having a fight over her. But she was wrong, and now I am twenty bucks richer! Those lovely red shoes from Clue's Shoes have my name all over them. Anyway, the doctor said that your boyfriend will probably be discharged tomorrow."

And with that, she was out of the room like a tornado, leaving behind a blushing and stammering Dean and a confused Lucifer.

"Man, that chick was absolutely nuts," Dean commented when he found his voice again.

"She was definitely…out of the norm," Lucifer agreed, thinking that it would be the best to agree with Dean.

"She said that you're going to be discharged tomorrow," Dean mentioned, and for the first time genuine relief flooded through Lucifer, imagining himself out of this dreadful hospital. Humans were despicable: they harmed and injured each other, and then admitted the victims to their hospitals for the purpose of making them usable as a cheap workforce or an object to dictate again. They were better off dying than living in this world.

"Then I can take you home and you can forget this whole episode," Dean said nonchalantly.

That was something Lucifer had to rectify. He could not allow Dean to be separated from him. He needed the human male to lead him to his true vessel, Samuel. He needed to manipulate Dean against Michael in order to gain victory over his brother as soon as possible, and he needed to be sure that he'd win. But to cultivate the trust he needed Dean to have in him, he had to stay with him for a significant period of time and probably help him while hunting. Lucifer knew that there was nothing that built up trust as quickly as fighting together. After all, he had witnessed it himself.

He just had to come up with a plan that would allow him to stay with the lone hunter. Dean probably thought him to be a clueless civilian who had wandered through the forest aimlessly, unaware of all the supernatural in this world. Maybe this was an angle he could work on, portraying himself as hunter who had become victim of some creature and was now on the look-out for said being to take revenge on it. To increase the sympathy Dean was bound to feel for him after hearing his story, he could make up a tragic story of having lost everything – loved ones and a normal life – to some sort of attack.

Maybe he could even add a deceased younger brother to make Dean able to identify himself with him. From the few times he actually had lowered himself to watch humanity, he knew that humans liked to project themselves onto others, no matter how the other party felt about it. Many of the conflicts Lucifer had been able to witness had simply arisen because one human wasn't able to comprehend that not everyone felt like they did about certain matters. Lucifer had been greatly amused to watch a human king kill his subjects when they dared to laugh as he mourned the death of his son and heir.

Lucifer smiled. Now he had a plan, and he only needed the right moment to put it into motion. The only thing he had to find a solution for was his grace problem, and then everything would be to his liking.

* * *

><p>Although Dean didn't know the stranger he had picked up on the street for that long, he couldn't help but feel rather comfortable around him. He didn't know why exactly that was; his whole life he had been taught to never trust strangers because even if they were just ordinary humans, they weren't hunters and, more importantly, weren't family. They couldn't be trusted. But when he saw Luke lying in the hospital bed, looking rather thoughtful and then smiling, he couldn't help but smile a little bit as well. The guy definitely hated hospitals as much as Dean did if his previous demeanour was any indicator. And everybody who disliked hospitals couldn't be as bad as someone who did enjoy staying in such institutions.<p>

"I´ll go to the Diner," he said to Luke and was about the leave when he, halfway through the door, turned back.

"Do you want anything?" he asked the bed´s occupant. "I mean, you probably shouldn't eat anything too greasy. But I didn't listen when the nurse counted all the things you shouldn't do, so I´ll just do it anyway."

Luke just looked as if the thought of someone bringing him food was something completely new to him. Poor guy, maybe he'd never had someone to bring him something when he was ill. Wait, where had this thought come from? Dean shook his head.

"No," Luke answered. "I am in no need of sustenance." After a moment of silence he added, "Thank you," as if he had to remember common courtesy.

"Suit yourself," Dean grinned and went out of the room.

He walked past the nurse office as he left the hospital.

"…and you should have seen the two of them when I commented on them being boyfriends," Dean heard the nurse saying. He was sure that he had never blushed that fast in his whole life. He wasn't inexperienced with women, not by far, having started his womanizer career when he was fourteen. Nevertheless, he preferred not to openly talk about his conquests so blatantly. Or rather, he only talked about his love flings with Sam. It made him nervous when strangers, like this nurse, talked about his love life like that, because he couldn't help but feel that they silently judged him for it, labelling him as kind of man-slut.

"They wanted to deny everything, probably terrified after the attack on the cute one, and I just said that we wouldn´t judge them and that they should be happy." Her last statement was ended with a sigh.

"They´re really dreamy," another nurse commented. "I wish my boyfriend was as handsome as leather jacket." Dean grinned. He just had a way with the female gender.

"You don't have a boyfriend, Lorette," another voice chided.

"But I can dream!" Lorette exclaimed.

"Who do you think's the bottom?" another nurse threw in. Suddenly it felt way too warm in here.

"Leather jacket," Lorette answered without a second's hesitation.

"Why's that?" the nurse from before asked.

"Oh, come one," Lorette said. "It´s obvious. Outside he plays the macho, the womanizer, the tough one who stands alone against the world with his rough exterior. But in private, he wants to be dominated, to be thrown against the wall while his boyfriend fucks him senseless, begging shamelessly for more and more…"

That was enough. With cheeks burning bright red, Dean walked away as fast as he could, not wanting to hear any more of the nurses' gossip. How did they come up with something so ridiculous? He wasn't Luke´s boyfriend, and he wasn't into men. Not that he couldn't and wouldn't appreciate an attractive male when he saw one, but women were the only ones he was interested in.

Assured of his own sexuality, Dean left the hospital and made his way to the Diner. Tomorrow he would bring Luke home and then he could leave this town and its gossiping hospital staff.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: And another chapter. For all those demanding more plot: Be assured that the next chapters will be more focused on that. I just wanted to write one 'easy' chapter before I have to write the more complex, character defining and changing, ones. I hate those, but alas they have to be. And I always wanted to write such a noisy nurse. Do I have anything else of importance to say? The voices in my head say no and I chose to believe them this time. But they do remember me to remind you to write some fancy reviews in the box below. Till next time, dear readers!


	4. Probably Something Weird Or Disgusting

_The fight was at the edge of heaven from which you were able to gaze down onto earth. What a beautiful creation it was! The enormous ocean, filled with so much life, reflected the light from stars and sun alike, making the whole planet seem to glow in a magnificent pure blue. Its land parts were in many different shades of greens, only interrupted by blotches of brown and grey, where deserts and mountain ranges disrupted the seemingly endless plant life. Above it the movement of the clouds created pattern of white circle-like structure, distributed over the whole surface of the planet. You may think all those different colors would disturb any harmony, but quite the opposite was the case: Everything felt like it belonged, like it was a small part making up an awe-inspiring whole. _

_Up here in heaven it wasn't as peaceful as earth seemed to be: White lightening shot through the air, followed by boisterous thunder. Left and right angels fought against each other, so fast that one wouldn't be able to even gaze the perfect movements. A strange mix of perfect dancelike movements and the sound of true voices speaking. Now and then one angel would be able to overpower his brethren and stab it in the chest. A feral scream would follow, full of pain, grief and sorrow and the wounded angel would explode into rays of pure white light representing its grace and then vanish. A being, as old as the earth itself, killed to never walk again over the clouds and gazing down on the oceans, to never wander the shores of the world while the water would caress its grace. _

_And in the middle (or as far as any sense of direction would go, for heaven wasn't ruled by the same laws of physic as earth was) stood the two brothers who many saw responsible for this conflict. On one side Lucifer, God´s second-born, standing tall and proud, his six black wings spread out in a show of power and dominance while he held his archangel blade in his left, soaked with the blood of those angels he had cut down with it. On the other side stood Michael, viceroy of the Heaven Host, the obedient son, whose six golden wings hung down in despair and hopelessness. _

_ "Lucifer," he called out to his brother. "Please, cease this uprising. Father will forgive you and welcome you back into Heaven."_

_ "Why should I?" Lucifer spit back. "Only to bow down to those vermin, tainting His beautiful creation? To love them more than I love Him? More than I love you or any other of my brethren? I won´t bow down to inferior beings!"_

_Michael´s expression became more desperate._

_ "Please Lucifer, I beg you," he pleaded. "Don´t do something you are likely to regret. Your little revolt is killing our siblings. Don´t let your pride be the reasons for their demise!"_

_ "You are right," Lucifer said. "Many of our siblings have already died. And I absolutely refuse to let their deaths be in vain. I will see humanity destroyed so that their dream of only angel walking this universe will become true." _

_Michael´s gaze hardened. It seemed that he had finally recognized that his beloved brother was beyond reason. _

_ "So be it," he whispered and gripped his blade thighter._

_ "Lucifer", he started, but it wasn't Michael speaking, not completely. While it was still Michael who spoke the words, they were laced with His Will and His Power. The ground trembled, the lightening became denser and everything seemed to shine brighter._

_ "You have acted against My Will. You have dared to harm My Creation, My Children, be they of humanity or of angelskin. You have disobeyed and you have tempted your brethren to aid you in your endeavor born of childish envy. You have fallen prey to pride, believing yourself to be above the rest of My Creation. You have become what I never wanted you to become." The lights became darker, while Michael´s figure was highlighted by the flare of His Grace. _

_ "Therefore, hear my judgment," He continued in thunderous voice. "You shall be cast out of heaven into the deepest recess of earth where you will be imprisoned until the day you either repent or be freed. Every angel standing by your side while be banished with you and be imprisoned alongside the creatures you have turned the human souls into. Lucifer, your judgment has been passed!" _

_And with a blow of Michael´s hand Lucifer, the Morningstar, was cast out of heaven and with him those angels who would later be known as the Fallen. Fallen from grace and fallen from heaven. And as Lucifer and his brethren fell, bright burning comets on the blue sky, as he collided with earth´s surface and kept on falling until he was engulfed by heat and flames, he swore that he one day he would be free again and his revenge on humanity would shock the foundation of heaven and earth alike._

* * *

><p>Sweat soaked and with a startled scream, Lucifer woke alone in his hospital bed. It took him a while to orientate himself, for he could still see blurry imprints of his dreams being mixed up with his real surroundings, making it impossible to discern whether or not it just had been an illusion or reality. When his breath finally calmed down, Lucifer tried to reason what just had happened to him. This must have been dreaming, something angels weren't able to do. It surely was an unpleasant experience and Lucifer had no interest in repeating it anytime soon. How did humans live with this…nightmares, constant reminders of their fears and failures?<p>

Lucifer shuddered. He never wanted to relive that again.

It hurt too much.

He just had wanted to do what was right. He had wanted to make his family whole again, to vanquish the discontent and angry murmurs that had become more and more frequent as God had ordered them to bow down to humanity. And the only solution was to destroy the reason for this discontent: The humans. And many of his brethren had agreed with him.

But Michael had not.

Raphael and Gabriel had not.

And Father had not.

It had hurt when his closest family members had abandoned him. It was like a stabbing pain, as if he was torn apart by anger, disappointment and grief. Lucifer had never felt like this before. Michael and he had always been close, even when God started to create other angels. When they were fledglings they flew across the universe and chased each other and the comets passing them by. And when their Father created earth, they stood at the edge of heaven and marveled at the beauty that was His creation.

But Michael had chosen Father over him. Humanity over his own brother. And it had hurt so badly.

Lucifer took a deep breath. He wouldn't succumb to these bitter memories. He had a goal to achieve. And everyone, Michael and Father alike, would see that he had been right the whole time.

It seemed that the lack of grace made him more emotional, he mused.

He concentrated on his inner life force. His grace was still nearly depleted. It was barely enough to smite one human or to make his wings visible on the physical plain. But it had become more since the last time he had looked at it. Not much. If it continued to refill at this pace it would take him nearly a years to even reach the level of a common seraph, let alone an archangel.

Not satisfied, but not in possession of a solution for his near-humanity, Lucifer laid back again, waiting for the sleep to come again.

* * *

><p>Dean was there when Lucifer was finally discharged. Lucifer had to smile when he could feel the rays of sunlight touch his face. The humans may have destroyed much of earth but there were things even they couldn't taint with their 'progress'. Like the sun shining down on earth or the birds he could hear from the near park.<p>

"Ready to leave this godforsaken place?" Dean asked in jest.

"It sure wasn´t a pleasant stay," Lucifer stated. This was a crucial moment in plan. Now it was decided whether or not Dean would let him travel with him and trusting him or if he would be left nearly human without a plan B.

"Isn´t hard to understand," Dean huffed. He made a gesture with his hand. "So, then let´s go, I´m bringing you home." He began to walk towards his car, not without carefully caressing the car´s cowl. He gestured for Lucifer to take place in the co-driver´s seat. When the two men were finally seated, Dean turned to face Lucifer.

"So," he began. "Where should I drive you to?

Lucifer fidgeted with his fingers and furrowed his brow, trying to make the impression of being nervous, slightly panicking while simultaneously trying to hide his emotions. He had always been a convincing actor.

"Everywhere is ok," he said in a shaky voice. Dean looked at him confused.

"You have nowhere to go?" he asked concerned.

"Not since my younger brother was killed," Lucifer added a pause, hoping to increase the dramatic atmosphere. "His name was Manuel. He burnt down in the house while I wasn't able to save him." Dean looked at him with pity and something akin to understanding in his eyes.

"Man, I´m so sorry," he tried to console Lucifer, obviously feeling uncomfortable with dealing with something like that.

"You don´t have to", Lucifer said with steel in his voice. "But the demons that burnt him down will be when I am finished with them."

For Dean´s reputation, he only lost composure for a few seconds. He paled, his grip on the steering wheel tightening and a look of shock and horror on his face.

"What did you just say?" he asked Lucifer.

"Oh, you heard me the first time", Lucifer shot back. "I know of the supernatural, because it cost me my brother while I was still ignorant. And I heard about you, or rather about your father, John Winchester, from other hunters. I don´t have anywhere to go because I go where these demons go until I have avenged my brother."

Lucifer had to suppress the urge to applaud himself for his performance. Dean didn't seem to question him, unable to look behind the story of his lost brother.

"So," Dean started. "You´re a hunter, too." Lucifer just nodded.

"And demons killed your brother?"

"It was five years ago," he started, along story would probably make him look more likable. "I came home from work. My brother and I we lived alone, because our parents had already passed away. We couldn't afford any luxuries, but we were content. Every day he would wake up before I did and prepare breakfast. He was all about having a healthy start in the day, you know? And he always made sure I ate something before I went to work and he to school. He liked school. Always doing some new project, always getting the good grades. I was sure that he would go to college. I already started saving money so that that wouldn't become an issue. And when I came back that day, I entered the flat and then I saw him." Lucifer gulped and acted as if he tried to hold back the tears. "It were two. They stood about the Manuel´s corpse and laughed. They laughed while my brother was all slashed up, bones sticking out of places where they shouldn't be. And his face, so distorted into a mask of fear and pain, looking as if he had frozen while he screamed. And then they turned towards me, their eyes so black, and taunted me about how weak my brother had been. And that I would share his fate. And then they attacked. I woke up in a hospital where the hunter that had saved me told me everything about the supernatural. He said that the demons escaped before he could finish the exorcism. And since then I hunted and I will continue to do so until those monsters are dead."

When he had finished, silence reigned. It didn't seem as if Dean had something to say.

"You really hunt alone?" Lucifer questioned unbelievingly after a while. "Isn´t this rather dangerous?" Dean just shrugged.

"I have no one to hunt with," he just said as answer.

"Me too," Lucifer stated. Now came the crucial point. "I could help you out."

Dean looked at him in disbelief.

"No offense, dude," he said. "But I don't know you or how you hunt or your skills. And I won't get myself killed because of that."

"Then we could make it a partnership on probation," Lucifer suggested. "A simple salt´n´burn. And if I do not meet your expectations, I will leave." Dean looked at him for a while, obviously thinking very hard.

"Ok," he said after a while. "I don't know exactly why, but somehow I get the impression that you aren't some lightweight. We do one salt´n´burn, because that´s something I could even do alone, and if you don't screw up we may can talk about continuing hunting together."

"Seems reasonable," Lucifer answered, secretly elated by this turn of events. They shock hands.

"Welcome aboard," Dean said. "Next stop: Probably something weird and disgusting!"

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: Wow, the so far longest chapter for this story. I will go and throw confetti around, celebrating this while simultaneously confusing the rest of my family :D I hope everything made sense and everyone stayed in character (a problem of mine) and like I promised, it was plot. Concerning the angels: I am a supporter of the theory that the power an angel possesses is shown by his wings: Six for the archangels, four for the more powerful ones like Zachariah and Naomi and the common food soldier like Castiel only two. Next time (maybe) more action. Don't know how much of the canon-story I will integrate and when. If you want to see something awesome, just write a review, click 'send' and the empty box below will disappear! O.o Magic!


	5. Of Ice and Snow

They stopped at a Diner, for Dean was again hungry.

"You can´t hunt properly if you don't have any pie!" he declared while they entered the establishment for which Lucifer could hold nothing but disdain. The benches were upholstered with a fabric which once probably had been red but now had faded and was covered with stains from the various foods which had been devoured there. The lights at the ceiling lit the room in a sickly yellow glint which made every customer look shady and threatening. One waitress was standing behind the counter, looking bored while twirling with a strand of her dirty brown hair. Somewhere, probably from the kitchen, you could barely hear the sound of a man singing along to some rock music.

The waitress looked up for a moment when they entered but was soon again occupied by her hair.

"If you think so," Lucifer replied politely when they sat down at a table standing next to the windows. He could not fathom where Dean´s obsession with the fruity pastry came from, for it was just nourishment you need in order to keep your body working. Whether it was pie or something else should not matter. But clearly humans weren't that intelligent.

"You could try to show more enthusiasm," Dean chastised him with a big grin on his face. Lucifer was spared from answering again, for the waitress was coming over to them.

"What shall it be, sweeties?" she said in a bored voice. Clearly that cognomen was something she only used in order to increase her tip.

"What pies do you have?" Dean asked, obviously not bothered by the waitress´s lacking enthusiasm.

"I have to ask," she said and turned around.

"Bernie!" she shouted. When there was no answer she did it again. "Bernie, you moron, stop singing this crap and start fucking answering me!" Now every gaze in the Diner was directed at their corner.

"What is, wench?" a man, probably Ernie, shouted back. "Do you always have to bother me? Are you too dumb to do your job?"

"Shut up, asshole!" the waitress answered back. "What pies do we have?"

"Apple and cherry," he grunted and started to sing again. Meanwhile the waitress turned back to face Dean.

"Apple and cherry," she said, her voice again dulled and bored. Lucifer was slightly interested in the two human´s interaction. They weren't bothered that the whole Diner had witnessed their shouting match, nor did that seem to be an abnormal occurrence in here if the ease with which they both had conversed was anything to go by.

"I´ll take the apple," Dean said. He turned towards Lucifer. "You?"

Lucifer just shrugged. He did not care in which flavour his aliment would be delivered, for it would serve the same purpose whether or not it was apple or cherry. There were more important things to think about, such as the upcoming ghost hunt which would determine if Dean would allow him to stay at his side; something crucial for his plans. He had no time to think about something as dispensable as the choice of his food. Dean didn't seem to be bothered by his lack of concern over the topic of the pie filling, instead rejoicing in the possibility to make said choice for him.

"He takes apple, too," he announced to the waitress, who just shrugged and turned around to deliver the order. When she was out of ear-shot Dean began to tell Lucifer about the possible ghost hunt.

"While you have been in the hospital," he began, "I have read the newspapers and looked for suspicious deaths and so on. I don't have to explain that to you, so why do I do it? Anyway look at that!" He rummaged in his jacket until he held a coiled up newspaper, which he gave Lucifer.

"Look at page two," he said and Lucifer did as Dean told. There was a big article about a supposed hunted house where over the course of ten years ten teenagers had vanished.

"That seems to be straightforward," Lucifer commented.

"One thing I have learned about the Supernatural is that it is never as it seems," Dean said. Before Lucifer could answer, the waitress came back, holding two plates with their pies, which she dropped unceremoniously in front of them. Dean´s eyes shone with glee and elation as he started to devour the pastry, whereas Lucifer eyed the one in front of him hesitantly. After having seen Dean practically inhaling his pie, Lucifer slowly cut off a piece of his pie with his fork and ate it.

He had to say that the taste of the pie wasn't as unpleasant as he had expected. Still retaining some of his angelic senses, Lucifer was rather surprised when he tasted real apples and not some chemical replacement which the humans were so fond of. The duff wasn't that bad, too, although he could taste some additions.

"Is there more information other than those ten humans vanishing?" he asked after a while. Dean stared at him incredulously.

"Dude, you talk as if you weren´t a 'Human'," he said.

"I have always been rather…detached," Lucifer admitted, hoping that Dean would be satisfied with his explanation. When Dean just nodded, relief flooded through Lucifer and he couldn't prevent himself from being furious at it. He was an archangel; he should not feel relief when some insignificant human didn't question him. He was above them and they should worship him, for he was perfect. And Dean believing him should not dictate how he felt.

"To answer your question," Dean said, oblivious to the fury which held a tight grip on Lucifer. "There wasn't much time to research, because that has always been…someone else´s task, but the victims were always some athletes from the local High School. Popular, good-looking and so on, if the other articles I found are to be believed."

Lucifer just nodded. He didn't miss the pause in Dean´s speech. He obviously had been about to divulge something about his past to Lucifer.

„So you think it is a vengeful spirit?" he asked.

"Sure I do," Dean grinned. "But we have to research when we´re arriving there." He groaned.

"I do not see what problem there is with researching," Lucifer said.

"Great," Dean groaned but Lucifer was able to discern that he wasn't serious. "Another geek."

* * *

><p>After they had finished their pies and paid, they made their way out of the Diner and began to drive again. Talking was made impossible by the loud music Dean listened to while they drove. Lucifer didn't mind, for he was able to just look out of the window and watch the scenery. Humans may have defiled earth in nearly every way possible, but there was still something eternal and serene about his Father´s greatest creation.<p>

As he watched the landscape pass by he thought about all the times he and his brothers had visited the planet when humanity was still only a thought in Father´s incomprehensible mind. Gabriel would often just leave on his own and fly across the Pacific Ocean, giving Michael a god chase. When the oldest Archangel finally caught up to him he would always get an earful; sometimes the lectures even lasting whole years.

He still remembered when Anael was ordered to create the Grand Canyon. Her true form had swelled with pride as she took flight and when she came back she had awed at the marvel that was their Father´s creation.

Lucifer´s favourite place had always been the wide deserts of snow and ice at the North and South Pole. Gabriel would often tease him for it, having chosen the, in his opinion, most boring places on earth. But Lucifer didn't give in. The near endless fields of wide gave him a sense of piece and calmness which he could otherwise only gain when he was near Father. While earth constantly changed, the ice and snow stayed the same; indestructible rocks among the ever-changing tides that was the rest of the world.

He loved the ambivalence he could only find in the ice and snow: One moment everything was calm; the world covered in a thick layer of white, reflecting back the sun´s light which created a beautiful pattern of light. Sometimes a breeze would arise and tendrils of snow would waft above the white, vanishing in the horizon. And in the next moment, without warning, a mighty storm would stream over the land. A gigantic wall of swirling snow, fabricating a destructive force incommensurable to anything existing on earth. It would howl for days; restless trying to undo everything in its wake. But then, as sudden as it had arisen, the storm would abate and leave behind the same spotless white that had been there before.

Sometimes, Lucifer mused, it was as if the flames of hell had just been another punishment from his Father. Oh, how he hated those searing hot inferno which had raged outside his cage, representing everything he so despised.

He was torn out of his reverie when Dean parked his car in front of an official looking building.

"That´s the local library," Dean said when he noticed Lucifer´s questioning look. "We have to research everything possible related to this case." Lucifer nodded.

"So," Dean clapped his hands and grinned. "Ready for our first joint venture?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: Hello again! Sorry that I haven't updated, but I have recently become a fan of another fandom (it´s the fourth) and had to read EVERY available story that I took a fancy to. But be assured: Supernatural will always be my most favourite ;)

This chapter was kind of a bridge chapter, but next time you´ll get your case with violence, gore and action (if I am able to write it without making it ridiculous). But I don't think that I´ll do many cases, because I am more of a 'There has to be an epic plot, no time for cases' – typ.

I have found a beta reader for this story, so expect the already posted chapters to be updated. I don't know if there will be any great changes, but I´ll let you know if that´ll be the case.

I am now in possession of a tumblr-blog I created only for the purpose of keeping you updated about my work´s progress. I´ll try to keep it as up to date as possible, so that you´ll always know when a new chapter will be posted. You can find the link on my profile (just click on my pen-name next to the story´s cover at the top of the page, for those who do not know).

If you have brilliant ideas I could incorporate in my story, feel free to mention them in a review. Or just review without a brilliant idea, that's okay, too ;)


	6. The Grey Lady

For a library of such a small town it was rather well equipped. Entering through the front doors you were led into a foyer in which the reception was placed. The foyer´s walls were decorated with paintings depicturing more or less important events of human history. Lucifer saw Caesar being stabbed to death, the Americans declaring themselves independent, the Bastille stormed by enraged peasants and the beaches of the Normandy being fortified by American and English soldiers. A chandelier, adorned with fake glass crystals, hung from the ceiling and gave the room the impression of a little bit of grandeur.

Behind the reception desk sat an older woman in grey blouse and skirt, a pearl necklace the only bit of jewellery she was wearing. Her grey hair was held in a strict bun, leaving no strand of hair out of place. Her lips were pressed into a thin line, etching a permanent scowl into her face while her high check-bones and long, pointy nose only increased the impression of disapproval the woman seemed to radiate.

"Definitely belonging to a library," Dean whispered to Lucifer with a grin on his face while he poked him into his side. "I can practically see her giving a tongue lashing to everyone who dares to defy that sanctuary that is this library."

Lucifer snorted, because he had to agree to what Dean was saying, but sobered up immediately when the woman eyed them suspiciously. Somehow she reminded him of one of Halahel´s vessels many millennia ago. The angel of knowledge had never been impressed by Lucifer´s Archangel status and one day when he and Michael dared to raise their voices in Heaven´s library because of an argument which topic Lucifer had long forgotten, she had them thrown out faster than anyone could comprehend. Lucifer had never seen the angel in such an incensed state before and it was truly a terrifying sight to behold. Not only hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hello," Dean said to the woman with his most earnest smile, which seemed to have no effect on the grey lady. Quite the opposite in fact, seeing that the woman´s lip grew only thinner. "Me and my friend are researcher about the history of small American towns, especially their folklore and such stuff. Where can we find something about that?" The woman looked at Dean and then at Lucifer as if she had to contemplate whether or not they were worthy of the knowledge that was stored in this halls. After a few seconds of silence she spoke up.

"Concerning the town´s recent history you should look through our newspaper achieve in room three," the woman said in condescending tone as if she spoke to misbehaving children. Lucifer´s temper rose. How dare this woman, this frail human being, who was nothing more than an ant under his feet, to speak to him, Lucifer, Morningstar and brightest of all four Archangels in such a manner! He should smite her into nothingness, denying her soul entry to either Hell or Heaven. But as his rage took control over him and he tried to summon his power, the little Grace he actually had slipped away and kept being elusive as it had been since he climbed out of Hell. No darkening of his surrounding, no lightening and no thunder. But as his fury receded and the blurred lines of his surrounding sharpened again Lucifer came back to his senses. What had he been thinking? Risking his ruse only for some insignificant woman who was of no importance of his plans! If something had happened Dean would have seen his true nature and all his plans for using the man for acquiring his true vessel would have been for naught.

But in this moment all his frustration at his situation, at his weakness, his not working powers had reached its peak and he just had to vent his anger at something or someone. He had never been good at controlling his temper and the slight this woman had done to him was the last thing in a long line that finally made him explode.

"Hey, Luke," Dean said worried and waved his hand in front of Lucifer´s face. "Still there? For a moment you looked really scary, all ready to murder someone." He chuckled. The woman frowned at him disapprovingly.

"I apologize," Lucifer said, more to Dean than to the woman. "Please continue."

"As I said," the woman continued. "Recent history in room three, for the rest room two. We don´t have a own section for local folklore or such things," She snorted, "but I would advise you to look that up in the history section, too, seeing that those two aspects are often mingled with each other. Sometimes you simply can´t separate what actually happened and what was imagination of superstitious folk." Obviously the matter was finished for her, because she beckoned the next person in the queue to step forward without giving Dean and Lucifer a second look.

"So…where do we start?" Dean questioned when they had stepped aside and found a reclusive corner of the foyer where no one was likely to overhear them.

"You said that the killings started ten years ago?" Lucifer asked. Of course, he knew the answer to that, seeing that he had an angelic memory and said talk had been only a few hours ago. But he should include Dean in this investigation as much as he could in order to gain his trust and give him a feeling of worth, not that he had any, beside leading him to Sam Winchester.

Dean just nodded.

"Then we should assume that, if the culprit is something supernatural, said culprit probably isn´t something very old, otherwise we would have much more victims," Lucifer reasoned.

"That sounds right", Dean said. "So it is 'Recent History', isn´t it? Nothing better than to search through old local newspapers." For once Lucifer had to admit that Dean was right: That didn't sound very exciting.

* * *

><p>Donna Hardwight was her name. Ten years ago she was the most popular girl at the local High School: Beautiful, loved by teachers and pupils alike, good grades and of course lead cheerleader. She was dating the captain of the football team with whom she went to an old abandoned house at the edge of the town from which she should never come back. According to the testimony of her friend she got frightened by some animal and fell down the stairs, resulting in a broken neck and instant death.<p>

"That doesn´t sound like a reason for becoming a vengeful spirit," Dean commented. "There´s usually some tragedy involved; a broken heart or some other Shakespearean stuff."

"Indeed, the whole thing sounds very suspicious," Lucifer agreed though he couldn't care less what happened to that stupid girl. The world was better off without that weak creature and if her ghost killed some other insignificant humans, who was he to detain her from doing exactly that?

"Maybe it wasn´t an animal that lead to her falling down the stairs," Dean suggested.

"Of course not," Lucifer sneered. "He probably pushed her down the stairs when she didn't want to bed him."

"No need to get so pissed off," Dean said angrily. "Not everybody deduces a failed rape attempt from a girl falling down some fucking stairs." Lucifer did not apologize.

"Seeing that it isn´t really necessary to question anybody what should we do now?" Lucifer asked after a while of sullen silence in which he randomly browsed through the newspaper that was currently in his hands. Dean, still sulking, took a while till he answered Lucifer´s query.

"We should take a look at that house and see if it´s really the ghost of Donna haunting it," he said. "Because otherwise we would burn the body of a girl for nothing."

Lucifer nodded in acceptance. "Then let´s go." But when he turned around his way was blocked by a child. The boy was rather small, messy blonde hair and bright blue eyes which looked at Lucifer with awe and innocence.

"Out of my way," Lucifer sneered at the boy. But the child just kept staring at him and made no motion.

"You´re bright, Mister," the boy said in timid voice. "Not like those black people with the scary faces." Before Lucifer could compose himself and answer the boy a dishevelled woman came from another room.

"Mike, what have I said about pestering strangers?" she admonished the boy while she took his hand.

"I´m so sorry," she said in apologetic tone. "Normally he´s such a sweet boy, but sometimes he gets this notion of black smoking people. You´re the first one he says to be bright." She shrugged her shoulders and led the boy away.

"But mom," the boy cried. "He was so bright and warm…"

_Well, that was certainly interesting,_ Lucifer thought. Obviously the boy was some kind of medium who was able to pierce at least parts of the veil that hid the Supernatural from the mere mortals. Though what really took Lucifer by surprise was that he had been able to see his Grace, or at least that tiny bit that he still had. Normal mediums were not able to do that without permanent damage to their body and mind.

_I wonder why the demons haven´t already taken such a price, _Lucifer mused. He would have. Such a gift was invaluable, insofar as it gave the demons which were not able to sense angels (mainly the new and weak ones) a great advantage over their foes. But demons were not the brightest creations that have ever walked this planet; too driven by their bloodlust and their fondness of suffering. Lucifer didn't care about that child anyway, seeing no practical way to use it for his own goals.

"Dude, what was that creepy kid?" Dean asked while they walked out of the library. "How he stared at you as if you were the tastiest bit of apple pie he had ever seen. And what was this 'you´re so bright'-thing going on there?"

"Not everything in this world is explainable by references to sweet pastries," Lucifer said. "He was just a very creative child, who read too many fictional novels." He hoped Dean wouldn't question further, for he had no desire to concern himself with this boy. If Dean had heard that bit about demons too, he probably would try to 'protect' that boy from the Supernatural or some other silly notion like that and Lucifer didn't need any more distraction on his way to his true vessel.

"Can´t imagine why he would think you to be bright," Dean joked. "´Cause you´re constantly looking as if someone had stolen your 'precious'." Lucifer was confused.

"I didn´t get that reference," he said dumbfounded. Dean just grinned.

* * *

><p>The building in which the ten deaths had taken place was an old mansion at the edge of town which was built at the end of the 19th century. From an iron fence a way led up the hill on which the house was built. The white gravel with which the way had been covered had long been carried away by the towns other inhabitants or been washed away by years of rain and now only brown earth and twigs from the surrounding bushes lay atop the ground. Once the bushes framing the way probably were cut in a most precise way, maybe even as statues, but now they were unkempt and grown together, creating an impenetrable wall on each side of the way. Reaching the main building you were greeted by a three story building which colour had faded into a dirty mixture between yellow and brown. Behind the many windows; many of which were broken and shattered; laid nothing but darkness, a rather unsettling fact given that the sun was still shining bright. It nearly seemed as if the darkness would suck the light through the windows into the house, waiting for someone incautious to lure in and devour. The two wooden doors were unhinged, making it possible for everyone to enter.<p>

"This house is fulfilling every cliché about haunted houses I can think of," Dean commented while he pulled out his gun out of his jacket. Lucifer did the same with the gun Dean had given him while they had driven to the house. Of course he may have neglected to mention that this was the first time he actually held a firearm, but with his still highlighted senses and strength it shouldn't be that difficult to use it.

"How do we continue from here on?" Lucifer asked instead, licking his lips nervously. When he noticed what he did, he immediately stopped the disgusting humane display of nervousness.

"The house is too big to search it together," Dean said. "So we probably should separate and each of us takes another level."

"Isn´t that rather risky?" Lucifer wanted to know. "What if the ghost ambushes us while we´re alone." He hated the fact that he had to admit that the ghost may be able to harm him. While he did have a little bit of Grace, Lucifer didn't know how much supernatural creatures were able to affect him. And he had no idea how much power the girl´s ghost, if he even existed, possessed. If he had his whole power at his disposal he simply would smite the whole house into nothing but ash and dust and see if the ghost would survive that.

"If that´s the case then just shot the ghost and it should disperse," Dean explained. "Then you should have enough time to find me and we can finish it off. You don't have to come if you don't want, I can easily finish a ghost on my own."

Lucifer knew that this was an important moment: Dean gave him the chance to back out of the hunt and to leave without the possibility of him being harmed. But Lucifer never really considered that; leaving the hunt would also mean leaving Dean and with him the possibility of finding his true vessel. And he was an Archangel; he had battled far worse than a pitiful ghost in his whole existence and while he did not have the power he had then he still possessed the same mind-set and the same intellect. He was no craven and he would see that through, even if it meant some incommodiousness.

"I will stay," Lucifer said and noticed that Dean relaxed a little bit when he heard.

"Then let´s waste no time," Dean said cheerfully. "I´ll take the basement and you start with the ground level." And with that the Ex-Archangel and the hunter entered the mansion. While Dean took the stairs on the right side to enter the basement, Lucifer continued onwards through the entrance hall.

Lucifer noticed faded pictures of scenes out of the bible painted on the ceiling: Angels, dressed in white togas, holding harps in their hands while they sat upon white clouds, praising God with their choirs. In front of him one of the two chandeliers had fallen down on the ground, its crystals shattering in thousand tiny pieces which now covered the ground and made creaky noises when Lucifer stepped on them.

When he finally reached the other side of the hall he passed into a long hallway from which at least seven doors gave entrance to the house´s other rooms. Seeing that he had to control every room anyway, Lucifer entered the first room on his right side. It obviously had been a living room; once, when people still called this mansion their home. A wooden table stood in front of an extinct fire place, stile tiled with a dust covered tea-service. Some of the cups were still whole whereas others had fallen on the ground and shattered. Three couches were placed around the table, covered in so much dust and spider webs that everyone who tried to sit on them would probably suffocate. On the left side of the room another door led into the adjacent room.

Lucifer let his eyes dart around the room while he carefully stepped around the furniture. Nothing out of character; nothing which would indicate a ghost. Satisfied of his progress Lucifer turned around…

…only to find the ghost blocking the door which lead to the hallway. Lucifer still wondered who invented the notion that ghosts came only in transparent grey; sure they were transparent, but only if you looked closely enough. Otherwise, they still looked the same as they had the moment they died. In Donna´s case it meant that she still looked normal; beside her broken neck of course, which was a bloody mess of broken bones, torn skin and dried blood. Lucifer had to admit that, by human standards, she probably hadn't been that bad looking. Her hair was in a bright shade of blonde and framed her face in a way that made it look like rays of light cherished her skin. Her face had a pleasant form, not too oval but not too long either with sinfully full and red lips and deep blue eyes. Her ghost still appeared in the same clothes she had worn on the day of her date; in this case a bright yellow dress which showed enough to leave nothing to fantasy but was still decent and didn't look cheap or sluttish.

"Flee!" she said in an inhuman voice, which echoed from the wall. "Flee, before she gets you!" Her eyes widened and she outstretched her arm, as if she was beckoning for Lucifer to come nearer.

Before Lucifer could comprehend what was happening, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head and darkness settled down on him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Hello, my dearest, faithful followers, it´s a pleasure to see you again! As you may have noticed I am back from Death (or school, but that´s practically the same, isn´t it?). I am officially finished with school and am now looking on weeks and weeks of free time in which I hopefully will get out a few chapters of both of my stories. As an excuse for my long time of absence this chapter is the longest ever to be written for this story. But like everything this has also a dark side: This chapter ended with a cliff-hanger O.o I´ve heard a rumour that feeding authors with reviews makes it more likelier that they will post a chapter, so I´m starting a research project on whether or not this rumour can be validated as true and I´d like you to help me with it! Leave a review!


	7. Creepy Basements

_Thump…..thump…..thump….thump._

The noise was insistent. Lucifer wanted it to go away; wanted it to leave him in this sweet black oblivion that he was currently in. He floated through the nothingness, his senses completely dulled. There was no him, no consciousness, just the blackness that encompassed him and pervaded him and left him with no pain, no regret and no anger. Just nothing. And it was sweet.

_Thump…..thump…..thump….thump._

It became louder and more bothersome. Why couldn't it leave him alone? He had been alone for so long; in the Cage when there was nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. Back then he didn't want to be alone and had craved the warm embrace of his brethren. But now when he finally wanted nothing but being left alone the noise wouldn't let him. It made him remember. Who he was, what he had done and what he planned to do. The noise tore through the nothingness and destroyed it like the illusion it was.

_Thump…..thump…..thump….thump._

He had been in a house, was the last thing Lucifer remembered. But why had he been there? A face flashed in front of his mind: A green-eyed man with a cocky grin and short, dirty-blonde hair. _Dean_, his mind supplied and with the name the memories came back.

_Thump…..thump…..thump….thump._

With a sharp intake of breath Lucifer opened his eyes. Blinding light invaded his mind and he had to close them again to stop the searing pain that shot through his head. After a while said pain ebbed away, leaving only a faint throbbing at the back of his head and he was able to open his eyes again. Now Lucifer was able to discern that the former blinding light was just a light bulb that hung at the ceiling. After a few more seconds of observation he was able to make out shapes in the dim light the bulb provided. The room he was in wasn´t really spacious, roughly three metres in length and two in width. It walls were naked concrete pervaded with countless cracks which gave the whole room a rougher atmosphere. A door, currently closed, was imbedded in the wall opposite of him. When Lucifer attempted to stand up he noticed that both his hands and his feet were tied to the chair he was sitting on.

_Someone attacked me from behind_, Lucifer remembered, _and seeing that I am imprisoned rather than dead it leaves only the conclusion that the person or creature which did the deed is still in need of me._

Lucifer´s mind worked at its fastest pace, coming to conclusions, devising plans and trying to find weaknesses in his bindings. Meanwhile the noise had stopped.

_If I were still an Angel this situation would never have come to pass,_ Lucifer thought and he could feel the familiar rage rise anew, burning through his veins like hot lava and turning his vision red. But his rage would not help him to escape his current predicament and so he forced it down and made it dormant again. When he would find the one who did this to him, then his rage would be unleashed, but not until then.

Lucifer wondered where Dean was. If he had escaped whoever lured in the house or if he was dead, bloodied and broken on the basement´s floor where the next generation of adventure seeking teenager would find his corpse. No matter which option, Dean was not available and so Lucifer had only himself to rely on.

_Wouldn´t be the first time_, he thought and a humourless, sarcastic laugh made its way out of his mouth. It disrupted the eerie silence of the room, echoing a few time before it faded away into nothingness.

_Like I will when I don´t escape soon_, Lucifer chastised himself and tried to free himself from his chains with renewed fervour. He did not possess much knowledge about human chains, but his captor probably hadn´t reckoned with Lucifer and Dean breaking in into the house and had therefore only used inferior rope to chain him with. Sooner or later it would rip and then he was free to go.

* * *

><p>After all the creepy shit he had been through, ranging from shtrigas sucking out a child´s life force to hearing Sammy singing "Billie Jean" under the shower when he was fourteen, Dean would have never thought that a simple basement could make him that anxious. First of all, it was big and Dean had the nagging suspicion that it was actually bigger than the base area of the house above. That meant that the basement probably was older than the house and that any weird shit would be here, in the basement where Dean was, instead of the house Luke was searching through. And he couldn't even blame himself, because he was the one who had volunteered for it.<p>

But back then Luke seemed to be a bit out of it and Dean couldn't bring himself to act like an ass towards him. He wasn´t even sure why. He barely knew the guy, but nevertheless he felt responsible for him. It probably had to do something with the way they met. Dean had nearly run over the guy when he aimlessly wandered around and had brought him to a hospital. Maybe that was why he felt responsible, because he had witnessed Luke at his weakest point and had stepped in. Some kind of mother instinct like Sammy had had when he picked up some injured animals when their dad was on a hunt and nursed them back to health. Yes that was it.

Secretly Dean hoped that Luke would prove himself capable and stay with him. Because if there was one thing that Dean truly feared, even if he never admitted it out loud, it was to be alone: To come back to an empty motel room and stare at the ceiling the whole night, because there was no breath from another person in the bed next to you which would sooth you into sleep; to read through endless material of research until the letters would blur in front of your eyes without anyone to crack a joke; to simply have the time to think, time in which your inner demons would crawl nearer and nearer without you having someone to chase them away. That was what Dean never wanted to experience. Not if he could prevent it.

Dean entered another room. It was littered with broken furniture, tattered books and broken lamps. He let the light cone of his flashlight wander around the room to look if there was anything noteworthy. Nothing moved but the dust Dean had dispersed with his entry. He shrugged. Maybe whatever killed those teenagers didn't live in the creepy, dusty basement, but in the light flooded easily to take attic? Dean snorted. _Yeah, and demons are altruistic Samaritans!_

When Dean finally reached the last room his anxiousness had reached its peak. He expected to be attacked at any given moment and it showed in his hasty and sloppy movements. Dean´s dad would berate him on that, but guess what? He wasn´t here; wasn't calling Dean out on his crude technique and Dean had better things to do than thinking about that. The eerie silence that had accompanied him through his whole search continued even in this room, but contrary to the other this one wasn´t filled with rubbish.

The walls were covered with strange symbols of the like Dean had never seen before. Some were curvy and elegant, graceful flowing into each other whereas others where edged and had a really rough character to them. When Dean illuminated them with his flashlight he saw the blood-red colour the symbols were drawn in. And after all his experience with the Supernatural he could say, that this was blood; human blood, and not some red wall colour from your local Walmart. When Dean moved his attention to the middle of the room he discovered an altar-like structure. A metal bowl had been placed upon a grey block of concrete and surrounded by a wide range of personal possessions. Dean could see a golden bracelet, some earrings and other jewellery as well as a diary bound in brown leather and some letters in neat script.

Careful Dean stepped near the bowl in order to be able to see its contents. When he was near enough to directly look into the container, he let out an undignified and very girly sounding shriek (which he would deny to ever have uttered), because what had met his gaze was a human skull, coated in a red liquid, probably blood as well.

Dean wasn´t very knowledgeable when it came to rituals and stuff like that, so after his breath had steadied again he looked around for any clues which could help him to understand for what this altar had been or still was used. He nearly gave up his search when he discovered a book on the floor which he nearly had overlooked due to its black binding. Dean bent down carefully and picked up the book.

"Shit," he whispered after he had flicked through the book. Not the ghost was killing the teenagers, but the person who kept it from crossing over and had bound it to this house.

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: Again a cliffhanger, evil me! But I did not write it to torment you, but rather because it was such a good point to end the chapter. This enabled me to update sooner, whereas I cannot fathom when I would have updated if I had kept writing. You will have the solution to all this suspense as soon as possible; this I can promise you!

But who is keeping our poor misunderstood ghost from crossing over? Take a guess in the review box (tip: it´s someone you know!).


	8. Carry On, My Wayward Bounded Soul

Lucifer couldn't tell how much time has passed since he started trying to free himself from the ropes that bound him to the chair. It could have been minutes or hours in which the skin around his wrist became sorer and sorer due to the constant friction caused by his attempts. Every while he had to stop because he couldn't feel his hands anymore; the disruption of the blood flow causing numbness to spread through them. But at least he could show some success for all his effort: He was only bound by a few loose fibres which soon would tear, making it possible for him to escape the room and find Dean.

_And then I will make the one suffer who dared to bind me here_, Lucifer thought to himself. With this hot anger surging through his veins he continued his work with new fervour and was soon rewarded with the satisfying noise of the rope finally tearing apart. Lucifer rubbed his wrists and flexed his fingers in order to regain any sensation within them. Slowly but steadily the numbness withdrew from his fingers and he felt the blood rushing back in.

Being sure of himself Lucifer stood up and wanted to leave the room only to find black blotches dancing in his field of vision and his sense of balance so off that he nearly fell over. He was able to support himself with one arm on the wall beside him just in time for preventing him to fall over. He closed his eyes and tried to fight back the nauseating feeling that rose from his stomach while his head was pounding as if he had had to endure one of Michael´s angry rants.

In this moment Lucifer felt truly and absolutely pathetic and bereft of any dignity he may have still possessed. Oh, how far he had fallen, when such a simple act as standing up could cause him such discomfort. He had once been one of the most powerful creatures in existence and now he was reduced to this. But he wouldn't let despair get a hold on him. He would not become prey to apathy and bitterness, but would rise and regain all his power and then Heaven and Hell alike would bow to him.

When the feeling of nausea had finally receded Lucifer made his way to the other side of the room where a sturdy wooden door was the last hindrance for his escape. To Lucifer´s great surprise the door wasn't locked and so he was able to leave the room he had been imprisoned in.

The hallway he entered gave no hint to where exactly he was in the house; if he was still there anyway. Lucifer decided to operate under the notion that he was, simply because he couldn't believe that what- or whoever had put him in the room had dragged him out of the house. The walls to both sides were made simple concrete and illuminated by naked light bulbs which hung from the ceiling. There were a few other doors, all closed as well, but Lucifer ignored them in favour of following the hallway.

He tried to be as stealthy as possible, always looking and hearing out for possibly enemies which could try to assault him from behind or could be in hiding around the corner. But there was nobody. The only thing which was able to shock him for a few seconds was a mouse which had tried to flee from him. He mistakenly took it for a human and had tried to eliminate it by throwing a stone at it (not his most graceful attack, he had to admit) but the mouse had already disappeared through a crack in the walls.

The hallway ended in front of another portal. When Lucifer tried to open it, it only did so for a few centimetres, and then it suddenly stopped as if something blocked it from outside.

"Who´s there?" Dean´s voice suddenly came from behind the blocked door. Lucifer let out a released breath.

"It´s me," he said and waited for Dean´s answer. He could hear some rustling, probably from Dean re-holstering his weapon now that he was assured that there was no monster lurking behind the door.

"Luke?" Dean called out. "Man, where have you been? I went through the whole basement and when I searched for you, I couldn't find you anywhere!"

"I have made contact with our resident ghost," Lucifer said with a smirk. "And was immediately attacked by someone else."

"That makes sense," Dean said from behind the door. "I found some kind of ritual room in which someone cast a spell which prevents the girl from passing on." A short pause. "So, whoever did this is probably still in the house and after us. That´s just peachy!" Lucifer could practically hear the sarcasm dripping from Dean´s words.

"Maybe it would be prudent for you to free the door from whatever it is that prevents it from being opened," Lucifer advised. "It would probably be helpful if we faced the person responsible for this together."

"You´re right," Dean said. "There is a broken cabinet and some rubble here. I´ll try to clear the area so that we can open the door." Without waiting for an answer from Lucifer Dean began with the work. Coming to the conclusion that said work would probably take some time Lucifer allowed himself to slide down the wall till he was sat on the ground. After a while the only noises were the hard breathing of Dean and the cracking of the wooden cabinet when it was moved.

While Dean worked on opening the way, Lucifer contemplated on the new facts he had been given. Holding a soul back from either Heaven or Hell was considered one of the severest crimes one could commit. You prevented a soul from gaining entry to paradise; eternal bliss, for selfish reasons or you held back one from the punishment in Hell that should be inflicted upon the soul for its vile deed committed while it still had been alive; thus, you can say, aiding and harbouring a criminal. Even worse was the fact that you intervened in the God willed order of things. When God created Heaven, Hell and Earth in all its splendour he installed this system to prevent the Balance from being disrupted, which in the worst case could lead to the annihilation of the whole Creation. Therefore conducting this black ritual practically meant that you revolted against God himself and attested to your willingness to even aid in the disruption of the Balance. Even the oldest and vilest demons would never dare to attempt something as this; knowing all too well the consequences that could arise from it.

But this led Lucifer to the conclusion that it wasn´t a demon who had cast the spell that prevented the young girl´s soul from passing on. Lower demons were basic creatures which were only driven by their lust for pain, torture and turmoil. Only if they were commandeered by a more powerful demon, able to set aside his lower instincts, these demons were able to perform such a complicated process and no demon of this calibre would have done something like that. Which only left other supernatural creatures and humans as culprits.

Lucifer was able to discard many of the known supernatural creatures from his imaginary list of culprits simply for the fact that they were too instinct driven and had no intelligence to even understand the abstract concept of souls passing on. Wendigos were only interested in their next meals; as were Shtrigas, pagans would have devoured the soul for its power and every monster without physical body wouldn't be able to shoulder the logistics.

Humans were the most logical explanation. Someone lost a loved one and found a description of the spell and tried it out of sheer desperation and now wasn't able to let the soul go while it still suffered on Earth.

"Luke, are you still there?" Dean´s shout interrupted Lucifer in his musing. The sound of the cabinet being moved had abated and when Lucifer tried to move the door he was able to open it completely.

"Yes, Dean, I am still here rather than heading through an unknown system of hallways with a dangerous individual on the loose," Lucifer said light-hearted and smirked at Dean who looked as if he was not able to decide whether he should laugh or shout at him. Before he could do one of those things Lucifer told him of his theory.

"How can you rule out that it isn't a demon?" Dean asked irritated. "There is nothing that these S.O.B wouldn't do. If there is something pure and holy out there, they´re ready to taint it." With every word he became more agitated; his great hate towards demon kind showing in the laboured breathing and the rising of his voice while the words came faster and faster.

"My family," Lucifer began, already spinning a story in his mind to convince and manipulate Dean. "Did extensive research on demons. We did not simply exorcise them; we caught them and then…questioned them, which also painted a big target on all our backs." He inserted a few fake sobs to make it seem as if the mention of his family would hurt him emotionally. "Before everything was destroyed we had one of the biggest libraries on demons in northern America." Dean´s fury seemed to abate when faced with what he believed the emotional turmoil of another person caused by the gruesome death on his family.

"Come on, Luke…I didn't say that I don't believe you…or your family," Dean tried to console him, clearly out of his element in comforting another person, evident in the awkward patting of Lucifer´s back. "I just…the demons I´ve encountered so far definitely didn't match what you just told me." Internal Lucifer felt delighted. Another angle from which he could slowly unravel the seams of what made Dean Winchester work.

"Don´t worry," Lucifer said, continuing to play his part, "it´s just the whole situation. The first hunt after…after everything and the whole stress. I´m okay now. We should look for the monster behind this and put a stop to it, before anything else happens." Dean just nodded and Lucifer complimented himself on a ruse well played.

"Where should we start searching?" Lucifer asked.

"We´ve been here for nearly an hour, inclusive your little time out," Dean said. "If I was some evil spell conjuring person I wouldn't leave until I had offed everyone who knew about what I did, so he is probably still lurking in the house." Lucifer had to concede that Dean´s point made sense.

"How do we lure this unknown person out?" he asked. Dean just shrugged.

"Going from room to room, hoping that when you´ll get attacked you´ll be able to kill your attacker before he kills you?" he said and walked off, obviously expecting Lucifer to follow him, what he did.

"That isn't really your whole plan?" Lucifer asked Dean incredulously while they took the stairs to the ground level. "Because even if I deign this stupidity the title 'plan', there are so many possibilities were something could go horrible wrong…no, where something _will_ go horrible wrong."

* * *

><p>Nothing went horrible wrong, something that irked Lucifer the whole drive back to their motel. Apparently the culprit didn't follow the typical MO of everything murderous and hadn´t stayed in the house to wait and kill them, for every room which they had searched through had been empty.<p>

"Maybe it's a newbie," Dean had said as they had left the house, "and nobody has told him that you should kill any witness to your super creepy black magic stuff." After a short pause he continued. "But it didn't go horrible wrong, beside the fact that some ancient tea service fell on your head when you crashed your toe on this cupboard." The murderous glare Lucifer sent him only made him laugh even more.

"I don't have the gun you gave me anymore," Lucifer suddenly remembered; the thought pulling him out of the reverie he was lost in as they drove through the town. "I think whoever subdued me took it on him." Instead of being enraged; his default emotion when faced with his new vulnerability; this time it was fear that gripped Lucifer´s heart.

Angels weren't able to forget anything that had ever happened to them; able to recall every conversation they had partaken in, to describe every enemy they had ever slain and to repeat every order they had ever been given. He could still remember those things, or so he thought, but what if amongst the thousands of memories he had access to, some had been lost to him because his more and more human mind wasn't able to handle them anymore? That was the worst thing for Lucifer, not being sure whether or not he could still trust his mind, his most powerful weapon. He wasn´t as powerful as Michael, not able to mask himself like Gabriel could and his healing abilities, unlike Raphael´s, where limited to the angelic basics. The only thing which gave him an edge over the others where his cunning and his way with words. What if he could no longer trust in his own abilities?

"Hey, in Baby´s trunk are so many weapons; it doesn't matter that you´ve lost this one," Dean said, obviously taking Lucifer´s pale skin and shaking hands for fear of Dean´s disappointment. "I´ve lost far more valuable things on the hunts I´ve been on before." He let a tiny smile grace his face as if he remembered a funny occurrence. "So no need to go all shaky on me, got it?" He clapped on Lucifer´s shoulder and continued to drive in silence.

Lucifer meanwhile tried to force back the tremors that shock his hands. He couldn´t be seen as weak or defenceless and anyway, it wasn´t as if he couldn't do something to change his circumstances. So he forced himself to even out his breath and to slow down his erratic heartbeat while he locked his memory problem away to his other problems with which he couldn't deal with. The amount of issues he had to work through became bigger and bigger the longer he continued to stay in this condition.

There was the fact that he didn't know anything about why he had been able to escape the cage. He just remembered that he slipped out through the tiny crack and then went onwards and onwards, higher and higher, feeling how the Cage, not ready to let his prisoner go free, pulled him back. He could recall the feeling of utter and all-encompassing despair when he noticed that it worked and he wasn't able to move forward. He had let the despair and the entire wrath he still harboured within him overpower his mind and in an explosion of Grace he had freed himself from the chains that bound him to the Cage.

He could only try to hypothesize what had happened afterward, for he had been so weak that he couldn't quite remember what happened. Maybe he had floated in the air, searching for something to hold on to, or maybe he had stayed where he had breached the ground, but the next thing he remembered was a man, his actual vessel speaking to him.

* * *

><p>"<em>What are you?" he had asked in amazement, staring at the white and glowing mist to which Lucifer´s true form had been reduced to. In his dazed state Lucifer was still able to recognize that, even though he had been severely weakened, the man should at least experience great pain when looking at him. That he didn't, told the Archangel that the human male probably was part of a lesser angel´s bloodline. <em>

_Within seconds Lucifer had assembled a plan to escape his current predicament. He carefully scanned the surface thoughts of the man flexed over him._

"_Nick," he whispered and the man´s eyes widened in shock while he nearly fell over._

"_You…you…you can speak?" he asked meekly. _

"_Of course," Lucifer answered, trying to sound benign. "But I do not possess the time to converse with you. Nick, listen carefully! There are forces at work in this world, powerful forces, which your human mind is unable to comprehend even in the slightest. Some of these forces are evil beyond anything you can imagine and it´s those forces that are trying to end my existence. I need your help to survive. Will you lend me it?" _

"_What can a man like I even do to help one such as you?" Nick asked. "I´m nothing special." He shook his head._

"_You just need to do one little thing," Lucifer coaxed. "One thing and you will be remembered as the man who stopped a catastrophe so big that it could have destroyed mankind." Nick´s face was one of pure shock mixed with eagerness._

"_What do I have to do?" he asked and Lucifer tried to hold back his disdain for the pathetic creature that had to be lured with false promises of greatness. _

"_You simple have to say one word," Lucifer whispered. "And mean it. You have to mean it or otherwise everything will be lost." _

"_What word?" Nick asked confused._

"_Yes," Lucifer answered._

"_Yes?" Nick said, but it was more a question than an actual statement._

"_Mean it!"_

"_YES!"_

* * *

><p>But not one of Lucifer´s problems was solved as he acquired himself a vessel. To his lacking knowledge about his escape also came his Grace which replenished itself at a too slow rate and his inability to anticipate his brother´s and sister´s moves once they had been informed about his escape which hopefully was a point in time far away. His existence was a complete mess and he sat beside one Dean Winchester.<p>

"We´re here," Dean interrupted Lucifer´s internal musings. He looked up and saw that they were indeed parked right in front of the motel they were staying in. Lucifer didn't even notice that Dean had stopped the engine. Without a word he exited the car and followed Dean to their room. Inside he unceremoniously let himself fall on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He never imagined that the blotchy surface of a motel room´s ceiling could be that soothing to his frayed nerves. He followed brown line which once probably had been coffee but how the substance got sprayed on the ceiling he could not fathom.

"We should make a plan how we´re gonna find our resident ghost binder," Dean said from the table in the corner where he sat with crossed arms.

"I´m not yet finished with the line," Lucifer said unconsciously.

"What?" Dean asked irritated. Lucifer straightened up with a huff.

"Nothing," he said and rubbed his chin. "Maybe we should look closer at the victim´s history. Maybe she had an enemy who hated her so much that he wanted to bar her entrance into Heaven…or a family member which was unable to let go of her."

"That´s something we have to do tomorrow," Dean said and looked out of the window. Lucifer followed his gaze and saw the sun slowly disappearing at the horizon, her lingering rays illuminating the sky in a yellow slowly turning red which converted to a deeper and blacker blue at the edge. Night had arisen.

"But till then we won´t mop around here," Dean said in a cheery voice, trying to change Lucifer´s bad mood. "So, I have to ask you a very important question." Despite his mood Lucifer´s eyebrows rose.

"What is your opinion on Dr. Sexy MD?" Dean asked in serious tone.

"I don't have an opinion on that," Lucifer answered confused. What was Dean hinting at? Was this a kind of personal test to verify Lucifer´s suitability as hunting partner? A trick question to determine whether or not he was human? He couldn't fail this; Dean couldn't leave him. Everything he had planned depended on him staying with the human. Dean meanwhile had his face in a mask of mock shock and hurt.

"Ye of no faith," he announced. "How can you not know the world-best series humanity has ever created? Where have you been raised; with some religious nutjobs who still don't have electricity or running water?" He supported his rant with excessive movements of his hands. As fast as Lucifer´s panic had arisen so fast did it ebb away after Dean had said his part on Lucifer´s apparent lacking cultural references. Actually compared to some of his siblings (except Gabriel) he was probably the best educated one about human habits and culture. He needed to be in order to play on them and to convince the others of their definite unworthiness.

"I simply lacked the means to educate myself on this," Lucifer defended, irritated at Dean´s insistence on him having to know such insignificant things. "That's no reason to act haughty towards my person!"

"No reason to get angry, Luke," Dean said and held his arms in a placative manner. "That's not something you have to defend yourself for. But it´s the perfect opportunity to broaden your horizon and embrace American culture at its finest!"

And that´s how Lucifer had to endure a whole evening of, in his opinion, torture. Dean was obviously enthused about the whole series, shouting at the characters for them to do something, going completely tense when a far-fetched and technically not medical possible operation had to be executed and (Lucifer wasn't sure if he saw it correctly) supressing a single tear when the loved one of the chief surgeon died in his arms after she had birthed their son and he had promised her to move on and not let her death influence his whole life. But every time he dared to even snort at the ridiculousness that was the plot, Dean gave him a murderous glare.

After they had finished another episode on the little TV that the Motel provided for every room, Lucifer saw his chance.

"I think I am perfectly educated now about the inner workings of American soap operas," he cautiously said. "There is no need for further deepening it." Dean just smirked at him knowingly and switched off the TV.

"Nobody appreciates the beauty that is this series," he bemoaned, though it was ruined by the yawn that made its way out of his mouth.

"I think you had enough beauty for one day," Lucifer just said.

"You´re probably right," Dean mumbled.

* * *

><p>To the average observer the house at the edge of the nondescript town looked broken-down and abandoned. The latches of the fence were no longer complete, some only in half, others completely dislodged and the elements long had completely peeled off every bit of colour the fence once had been painted in. The lawn, probably well and orderly kept in the past, was now a mixture of plants of many different kinds and grown so high that it nearly reached the ground floor´s windows. Most of these windows were either broken, only some shards of glass still held by the frames, or barricaded with thick pieces of woods to prevent curious towns' folk from entering the building.<p>

Not that these barricades were even needed: every person who even dared to set a foot inside the premise would soon be faced with a vicious hellhound. Said person wouldn't even make it to the house before he or she would viciously be torn apart by this hellish abomination whose only purpose was to end a persons´ life with as much pain and suffering as possible. Added bonus to this kind of protection was the fact that the hellhound would then drag the person´s soul down to Hell where it would become property of the hellhound´s owner.

Said owner was currently residing in one of the houses´ main rooms. While the outside of the house was in ruins this could not be said of this room. The floor was construed with luxurious dark, nearly black, wood which glimmered in the light. Said floor was also covered with a red carpet which looked carefully woven, inlaid with delicate threads of golden yarn which seemed to create a pattern that looked like some sort of Arabic calligraphy. Shelves, made of lighter wood than the floor, covered every inch of the walls. Those shelves seemed to contain hundreds of books if you went by the many different colours of their spines. On one side of the wall, facing the only door that led into the room, was a tremendously big desk, which looked like someone had stolen him right out of a renaissance castle, what, knowing the owner of said desk, probably was even the truth.

A man sat behind the desk. He was clothed in an expensive looking black suit, the red tie the only coloured accent in his whole appearance. Even while sitting it was obvious that the man was a rather short example of humanity, something that was even more enhanced by his pudgy statue. His hair was short; the hairline already receding; and brown. Both, hair and beard, looked well-trimmed in order to strengthen the man´s sophisticated look and aura. In one of his hands he held a glass of scotch while the other touched the edge of the desk; always in motion, tipping on the wooden surface.

In front of man and desk stood another man. Clothed in a generic black suit there was nothing noteworthy about him but the fact that his eyes black, looking like portals into a deep nothingness.

"So," the man behind the desk asked; his voice laced with a thick Scottish accent. "What do you have to report?"

"Eh, sir," the man (or rather the demon) began to stutter. Crowley had to supress a sigh. His underlings where nothing but mindless idiots! But alas, he only had himself to blame, seeing that he killed every demon that showed even an ounce of intelligence out of fear that said demon would one day be in a position to usurp him. After all that was what he had done to his predecessor.

"Is it so difficult to form coherent sentences?" Crowley asked rhetorically. "I am pretty sure that one's ability to string words together in order to convey messages is not even tangentially touched by Hell´s torture. So please refrain from your pointless show of weakness and _report_!" The last word he shouted at the demon in front of him.

"As you´ve ordered us we´ve done another excursion to the Cage," the demon began anew. Now Crowley´s interest was piqued. Every few decades (in Hell years of course) he would sent a few demons out to monitor the Cage in which Lucifer, their creator, was imprisoned in. Many of the demons perished throughout the journey, for the Cage was in a secluded area of Hell which was extremely dangerous and lethal even for demons; more so for the weak ones Crowley sent. Out of the hundreds of expeditions he had ordered to be done only five had been successful and none of its participators had survived reporting to him. He may claim that he did so in order to find weaknesses in the Cage´s constructions in order to free Lucifer while in fact quite the opposite was the case: he didn't want Lucifer to escape at all.

"And what have you discovered?" Crowley asked when his minion did not continue.

"There wasn´t any magical residue, sir," the demon answered. "From what we were told we should have felt the presence of the Father even though his power is contained by the Cage. But there was simply nothing…as if the Cage didn't even exist." Crowley had to supress the urge to curse out loud.

"That was everything?" he asked as confirmation.

"Yes, sir," the demon answered. And without further ado Crowley snipped with his fingers and killed him in an explosion of blood, gore and demonical essence. With another snap the blood and everything else vanished, leaving the floor in the pristine condition he had been before.

Crowley continued to take a big gulp from his glass. While the alcohol had no effect on him due to his demonic nature, the familiarity of the gesture (after all alcohol was one of the reasons why he even had been in Hell to begin with) helped him to clear his mind.

Crowley knew what the lacking magical residue, of which the demon had spoken of, meant. Because Lucifer was an Archangel and therefore pure, even though he had done unspeakable horrors, demons who made it near the Cage felt a kind of pressure the nearer they came to it. The power of Lucifer´s contained aura was even so great that it killed those who dared to come to close to the Cage. If this pressure was no longer there it meant that Lucifer was either dead or free. And while Crowley sincerely hoped that the first was the case, he knew that it was the latter.

_But if he was free, why didn't he start this nasty Apocalypse business as soon as possible?_ Crowley asked himself. The question how he even did manage to escape wasn't something he would dwell on for it had no influence on his current predicament. But the other one…

_Lucifer is cunning and knows how to use his disadvantages in his favour,_ he thought, _so there has to be a reason why we didn't hear about his escape. There is no reason for him to not announce his release, because if he even starts one of the required steps for the Apocalypse, everyone, including the Heavenly Host, would notice anyway._ He stared at the wall opposite of him.

There was also another possible explanation. Crowley knew for a fact that the Righteous Man wasn't and has never been in Hell; that was planned to happen in a few years. As far as he knew Azazel and his demonic brood was still topside, moving every piece in place in order to orchestrate the Righteous Man´s descend to Hell. That however meant that Lucifer had not escaped the Cage like it had been foretold millennia ago, because the first seal was still intact. So maybe, Lucifer hadn't start his little temper tantrum because he simply wasn't able to. Maybe he was defenceless or at least severely cut off from his power. The longer Crowley though t about this scenario the more likely it seems to him.

The gears in his mind turned faster and faster when he thought about the possibilities such a scenario brought with it; mainly the opportunity the get rid of one of the few beings that could change the status quo he was momentarily quite satisfied with. Of course, he had to be very careful. If only one of the Lucifer loyalists got even wind of him plotting to kill their Creator, he would be dead faster than an Angel would be able to smite him. Furthermore he had to ensure that, in case aforementioned scenario turned out to be untrue, nothing could be linked back to him. He also had to work very fast. As far as he knew, Crowley was the only higher demon to regularly send troops to the Cage, because every other thought it either to be a waste of time or was content in waiting until Lucifer was freed. But sooner or later someone would notice and then getting rid of the pesky Archangel would be even more difficult.

After a plan has formed in his mind, Crowley snipped with his fingers and another demon appeared in front of him.

"Collect the strongest of your brethren," Crowley ordered the creature. "And take the Angel blades with you. I got word that one of those feathery pricks is wandering on Earth and I want you to search the whole country and kill it." The demon just grinned manically at the prospect of being offered the chance to kill an Angel. He nodded and with another snip of Crowley he disappeared again. Crowley meanwhile fished one of his cell phones out of his drawer and dialled on of his contacts. After a few second his call was answered and Crowley began to talk.

"Now, there is no need for such profanities," he admonished, "even more so when I have such a great offer for you." Crowley waited a moment. "What would you say about the chance to have your deal cancelled, Bela?"

* * *

><p>If someone had asked for Lucifer´s opinion he would have said, that it was completely pointless to return to the house in which the ghost of the young girl was imprisoned. Or at least, pointless until they knew the identity of the culprit. But Dean had been very adamant on the issue and because Lucifer had better things to do than fighting with the perky human, he had craved in. Now they were standing in front of the house, again. But this time Lucifer didn't plan to lose his firearm again. Instead he would use it on whoever planned to assault him.<p>

"Maybe we´ll find some clues," Dean tried, noticing the irritated look on Lucifer´s face. Lucifer simply ignored him and went into the house; followed by Dean after a few seconds. The entrée still looked the same as yesterday, which was expected. What was indeed not expected was for the library´s grey woman to stand at the other side of the hall.

"What are you doing here, miss?" Dean asked suspiciously, one hand at the gun at his waist holster. The woman suddenly spun around, obviously not having noticed their arrival. When she saw the two standing at the other end of the hall she seemed to relax.

"I could ask the same of you," she said disapprovingly, "seeing that my family actually owns this house whereas you trespass…but to answer your question; I am here to lay down flowers for dead niece." She pointed to a bouquet of roses which were carefully arranged next to the door. "I do it once a week. She was such a sweet girl." The woman swept a tear from her eyes. Then she turned her gaze back to Dean and Lucifer. "But that still doesn't answer what you two are doing here."

Seeing that the woman obviously wasn't about to suddenly let them wander through the house, Lucifer decided that he had to play out the cover story under which the woman knew them.

"As you know," he began, "we´re researching the history and folklore about little towns as these. Research has shown that a couple of mysterious deaths have occurred in this house and that in return has piqued our interest. That´s the stuff of which legends about haunted houses are made of and we couldn't let the change to see one pass by." Dean gave him an approving nod. The woman seemed to think about what he had said for a while.

"If I allow you to roam the house this time will you leave it be afterwards?" She asked and when she saw their surprised faces she added: "Even though I am no longer young I still know how I used to behave in your age. If I chase you from the property or call the police you would simply come back later when there isn't anyone to supervise you." Her gaze told them that she obviously thought that the two of them needed supervision, which, in Lucifer´s opinion, was rather ridiculous.

"It would be an honour," he said instead. "If you could show us around. Maybe even tell us something about the house´s history." Dean nodded beside him.

"That would be awesome," he added.

"Then come; I don't have all the time in the world," the lady said irritated. "The faster we are the sooner I get you out of the house." Then she turned and went into the hallway without even bothering to wait for Lucifer and Dean to follow her. She led them into the room in which Lucifer had been assaulted by the ghost when they had been here for the first time.

"I only used to live here when I was younger," the lady explained while she ushered the two into the room, closing the doors behind her. "But then we moved because of my father´s job and we didn't find a new owner for the house. But I wouldn't want it in any other way." Then, out of a sudden, she murmured a word and both Lucifer and Dean were flown against the wall, being held there by an invisible power.

"Do you really think I hadn't noticed how you snooped through the house the other day?" she asked. "I knew you were trouble the moment I saw you. I had you prisoned," she pointed her finger at Lucifer, "but when I wanted to take care of the other I had to leave because I hadn't had any weapon and Donna can´t enter the basement. But now you are here and you won´t take her away from me, _you won´t!"_ She shrieked the last words. Then she mumbled something else and to Lucifer´s surprise Donna´s ghost appeared behind her, looking desperate at both of them.

"You´re the one keeping her soul here!" Dean accused her.

"She was such a sweet girl," the woman continued without caring for Dean´s word. "She had such a promising future in front of her. She was my everything; my only niece, the only one that still cared for and about me. And then this bastard good-for-nothing footballer killed her, because she was too much to handle for him. But now she´s here with me and she won´t leave me again."

"It wasn't she that killed all those teenagers," Lucifer came to the realization. "You killed them to fuel your spell." The lady looked at him.

"They deserved what I did to them," she spit out. "And it was a little price to pay for keeping my dear Donna." She laughed manically. "And now I have to dispose of you. Nobody will take my Donna from me ever again." With another snip of her finger Donna´s ghost suddenly appeared in front of Dean.

"I´m so sorry," she whispered. Then she struck her arm into Dean´s chest right where is hear was placed. Dean screamed and began to gasp for air. He became paler by the second and it looked like his chest would explode from some inside pressure.

Lucifer fought against his bounds, but he couldn't move a bit. He wanted to scream in frustration and panic in face of his powerlessness. Dean couldn't die; he was needed for his plan, for his revenge. If the human died here, killed by some pathetic woman who couldn't let her niece go, there was no way for Lucifer to find his true vessel and to destroy humanity. The whole Apocalypse, his only chance at gaining re-entry to Heaven, would be all for naught if Michael´s vessel died here. This woman wasn't allowed to kill his only chance at turning everything right, his only shot at showing his Father how useless and filthy his creation was. He needed Dean for his plans. He needed Dean for his goals.

_He needed Dean_.

Lucifer could feel his Grace flare up and suddenly the bonds that had hold him were gone. Unceremoniously he fell to the ground. Without waiting for the lady to react, he took the gun from where he had secured it at his belt and took a shot at her. There was a sudden bang and then blood started to quill from the woman´s chest. She stared at him, her eyes slowly losing focus and then she slumped to the ground.

The moment she hit the ground, Donna let go of Dean and he, too, fell to the floor, his breath shallow and his skin still pale. Donna stared at him.

"Thank you," she said and then she simply faded away until there was nothing left of her.

"Dean," Lucifer scrambled over to the human. "Talk to me, Dean!" He slapped the human, not knowing what else to do.

"That…fucking…hurt," the man coughed. "The…ghost and…your…slap." With every breath Dean´s skin seemed to regain its colour and his breaths became more even. After a while he was able to set up.

"So…you offed her," he remarked when he spotted the woman´s corpse. Lucifer didn't deign the question with an answer, seeing that it was obvious. "She was a witch, wasn't she? With that whole 'pressing us against the wall' thing?" This question Lucifer answered with an affirmative nod.

"God, I hate witches," Dean groaned. "But the girl is free, isn't she?"

"Yes," Lucifer said. "Her soul has moved on. As should we." And with that they left the house.

* * *

><p>"So, what will you do now?" Dean asked while they sat at a table at the local Diner, he eating his obligatory after-hunt apple pie.<p>

"I don't know," Lucifer answered. This was it. Now would be the crucial point of all of his plans. He needed to stay with Dean in order to gain strength and find Sam Winchester. If Dean did not let him accompany him everything would become more difficult, even close to unreachable.

"You could stay with me," Dean suggested. "You were a pretty decent hunting partner and like I said before, I´m currently short of one."

"That would be great," Lucifer said.

He told himself that the feeling of relieve only came because of his success at securing himself a place beside Dean.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Wow. Simply Wow. That was the longest chapter I have ever written in my whole live. I desperately hope that you all liked it. Originally I planned this story to be only 1000 to 1500 words ficlets, but it somehow went out of hand and now you have this monster ;)

So now we have closed off our first case and Lucifer has a place at Dean´s side as his hunting partner. But he is still hell bent on destroying humanity, so how will it go on from here? Did one of you guessed right and suspected dear old library lady to be the one behind the murders? Some of you suspected Meg or Crowley but I didn't chose them because I couldn't find any reasons for them to bind a soul to Earth, so it was library lady. And we have Bela now, who will be chasing our resident angel-hunter-pair! And even more serious: Crowley. What is he up to; besides the obvious?

**Important:** The next chapter will take some time because of reasons. I want to work on my other story, mainly editing the last chapter and writing a new one. Furthermore I have to think about how I want to continue this story because until now I made everything up as I went without any kind of plan.

Last thing: I wanted to thank everyone who read, followed and favoured the story. When I started this story I would never have thought that I even get more than 10 followers and now I have close to 60! A big thanks to all of you, guys and girls (don't know whether guys is gender-neutral or not).

I am in a possession of two tumblr-accounts; one extra for updates concerning my stories and one for any other stuff. You find links to both on my profile page. What you won´t find there is an empty box for your reviews, so leave one before you…well…leave.

German pun of the day: Was ist grün und steht am Straßenrand? – Eine Froschtituierte :D


	9. Interlude: Of Friends and Foes

Staring at the map in his hands Sam Winchester stood completely forlorn on the campus of Stanford University, California. He was supposed to go to the student´s dorm in order to move in the room where he would stay for the next four years, but he simply wasn't able to transfer the layout depictured on the map to the buildings around him. Reading cards and making a plan of action out of them had always been Dean´s forte.

_No, I won´t think about him or dad_, Sam told himself resolutely. This was a new part of his life and the old one had no place within it. Of course, to start his new life he had to find his dorm first.

"Excuse me, but I couldn't help but think that you seem to be lost," a female voice chimed in from before him. Sam looked up. In front of him stood a girl nearly as tall as him. She had blond and curly hair which hung loose from her head. Her blue eyes shone with mirth and amusement and her lips were curved into a little smile. She wore a washed-out jeans with several stitches on it and one of her arms was wound around a bright-yellow bag she was carrying. Her t-shirt was grey and 'I´m a nerd and still sexy as hell' was attached on it in capital blue letters. When the girl noticed Sam starring on the font her smile grew wider and Sam blushed.

_Now she probably thinks I´m a pervert or something_, he thought to himself miserably.

"And," the girl continued. "Are you?"

"Am I what?" Sam responded confused. The girl just laughed.

"I asked if you´re lost," she repeated.

"Yes, I am," Sam affirmed. "I´m in search for my dorm, but sadly my navigation skills are still in development." He smiled at her shyly.

"Which dorm are you in?" the girl inquired and Sam just handed her the map on which the secretary had circled his dorm with red marker.

"Hey, that´s next to mine!" the girl exclaimed after she had looked at the map for few seconds. "I have to go to my dorm anyway, so I can take you with me and deliver you to yours." She smiled at him brightly. Sam just nodded, a little bit insecure in his handling with the female gender.

"That´s great," the girl remarked and took Sam´s right arm with a harder grip than Sam had expected.

"By the way," she continued while they were walking across the campus. "My name´s Jessica Moore, but all my friends call me Jess. I study English and want to become a teacher. What about you?" Before Sam could answer a group of five students passed by and greeted Jessica with loud 'Hallo's. Jessica smiled and waved at them. She seemed to be a generally cheerful person. Not that Sam did mind. After the group had passed by, Jessica turned back to him and raised her eyebrows as if she wanted to urge Sam to answer her query.

"My name´s Sam Winchester," he started. "And I got a scholarship for law because, obviously, I want to become a lawyer." He winced inwardly when he noticed how conceited that last statement sounded. But Jessica seemed to take no offense.

"Wow, a scholarship?!" she exclaimed in amazement. "You have to be really smart to get one for Stanford."

"It isn't such a big deal," Sam murmured. He did not feel comfortable when his intellect was put in the limelight. Usually it just meant that the bullying was soon to start after that. But Jessica seemed to notice his discomfort and did not inquire further.

They walked for a while in silence, which wasn't s awkward as it sounded. Every now and then Jessica would point out something important, like the cafeteria or the way to the next print shop, which she embellished with anecdotes (for example, a few months ago someone had spiced the cafeteria food with laxatives. Every lecture had had to be canceled, because even the professors hadn't been spared). Sam didn't say that much, but he was content with just listening to Jessica's voice.

"Here we are," she said and pointed towards a building at the end of their track. "That's your dorm."

Sam didn't really want to separate from Jessica; or at least not without asking her for her number. But doing that looked easier than it actually was. He broke out in sweat and his palms were wet. He awkwardly twiddled with his fingers and he had yet to look up at Jessica.

"Do you already know the best party locations?" Jessica interrupted his inner agony with her question.

"No, not really," Sam answered. "Hadn't had the time yet." He shrugged with his shoulders.

"Then I'll collect you at nine right here!" she chimed. Before Sam had even the chance to respond Jessica pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and disappeared around the corner.

Absentmindedly Sam touched his face where Jessica's lip had touched his skin. It was still warm and a tickling sensation spread from there onwards. He couldn't believe what just had happened. A gorgeous and intelligent girl wanted to meet him again. Him, awkward and nerdy Sam Winchester, whom girls hadn't even spared a single glance in High School. It seemed that all the people that claimed that College was the best time in your life were definitely right!

Sam looked around. When he saw nobody in his vicinity, he bumped his fist in the air and did a little victory dance. He would totally rock College!

* * *

><p>Bela Talbot was a woman on a mission. A mission that she could not fail. That was the mantra she repeated in her head over and over again in order to refrain from outright killing the despicable specimen of the male gender that was currently sitting at the other side of the table. Small, fat, with tiny pig-like brown eyes and greasy hair, he was truly no sight to behold and the way his eyes would sweep over her neckline made her shudder in disgust. Sometimes he would move his hand through his hair to hide the bald parts of his head and would then continue to drink from his glass which was now nearly non-transparent due to the amount of grease smeared over it. Bela had to supress a shudder when she looked at it.<p>

"So you want me to track a guy for you?" he asked in his oily voice with barely supressed lust. Bela felt tainted only by just listening to him.

"It is after all what you are renowned for," she responded in her sweetest voice, her smile to wide to be real. "And I would pay handsomely for your service." She winked at him suggestively. Of course she would rather kill herself than allowing this swine to touch her, but he didn't have to know that. The man´s eyes became wider and shone with greed and lust.

"Indeed," the man purred, "I am the best in my field and you did well in directly approaching me for help. A lady such as you only deserves the best." He smiled at her, thus showing her his yellow teeth. "Who do you search for?"

"That´s the problem," Bela admitted grudgingly. "See, this guy…he owns me money. Much money. When he couldn't pay me back he fled to Mexico and I only go the notice of his return a few days ago. I don´t know under which name he goes and how he looks because my contact says he had a lot of cosmetic surgery. For God´s sake, he could even be a woman now for all I know."

"So, just to be clear: You´re practically searching for someone you know nothing about; not even his or her gender?" the man asked incredulously. "Why did you even bother coming here?"

"Oh, it´s not as bad as it sounds," Bela assuaged him. She handed him a piece of paper. "Here are some things you should look out for." The man eyed the paper sceptically.

"You´re one of those wackos, aren´t you?" he asked her and Bela just blinked at him.

"You know," he tried to convey what he wanted to express in excessive hand-gestures. "Every once in a while I get one of those. Want me to search for things such as sudden power blackouts, meteors falling from the skies, crops and cattle dying without reason or trees and other nature shit suddenly appearing out of thin air. I´m always happy when I get rid of them; quite trigger-happy that lot. A few things written on your list I have never heard of before, though."

_Ah_, Bela thought, _so our man here had experience with a few hunters. _

"I don´t care what you think about me," Bela said. "But I´m willing to pay you twice as much as you would normally earn and the only thing you´d have to do is to look for those signs and inform me." Now Bela could practically see the Dollar-signs in the man´s eyes.

"It is a pleasure to make business with you, Miss…?"

"White," Bela answered. "Evelyn White."

"Miss White." The man held out his hand. With great distaste Bela shock it. She would make sure to empty her bottle of disinfect on it later. As fast as she could Bela left the bar and went to her car.

When she heard the door close with a gentle 'clack' she let out a shaky breath. She never allowed herself to show anything but utter confidence to everyone she met, be it an enemy or an acquaintance. Friends weren´t on the list. She had none. But when she was alone with no one watching her mask slipped and everything came crashing down. When she was alone she wasn´t Bela Talbot collector and seller of valuable occult objects but a young, desperate woman on borrowed time who had sold her soul in a desperate move to at least make it past the age of sixteen.

The talk with Crowley had just driven home the point that she wasn´t her own person. Every time she heard that bastard's voice she was forcefully reminded of the fact that she did belong to someone. In this aspect she was like the objects she sold to her clientele all over the States. And damn, it frightened her so much; to be completely at someone´s mercy and to know that your death would be painful, pointless and the entrance point for even more pain and torture to come. And there was no escape.

Bela forced back the panic that threatened to immobilize her. There was no use in crying over spilt milk. She had no time for being frail! Her face became blank, the mask sliding back in place and with a familiar ease her dark thoughts were shoved into the back of her mind. The sellswoman-persona was back in place. She initiated the car´s ignition and with a loud howl the machine roared to life.

Bela Talbot vanished into the night like so many times before.

* * *

><p>He was standing at the edge of Heaven, looking down on earth. What a beautiful creation it was! The enormous ocean, filled with so much life, reflected the light from stars and sun alike, making the whole planet seem to glow in a magnificent, pure blue. The lands that dotted its surface were many different shades of green, interrupted by blotches of brown and grey where deserts and mountain ranges disrupted the seemingly endless plant life. Above it, the movement of the clouds created pattern of white circles over the surface of the whole planet. One might've thought all those different colours would clash, but quite the opposite was the case: everything felt like it belonged, like it was a small part of an awe-inspiring whole.<p>

Here at the edge of Heaven Castiel felt at ease. Since Anael had chosen to fall life in their garrison hadn´t been the same as before. Uriel´s disapproval for humanity had slowly but surely turned into blatant disgust. No opportunity to point out humanity´s faults were wasted and any kind of rebuke for his nearly blasphemous notions was met with anger bordering to hate. Uriel was walking a very thin line.

But not only he had changed. Balthazar´s carefree attitude had become even more prominent and there wasn´t one thing in the whole of Heaven that seemed to be able to draw the angel in. More often Castiel found himself in the difficult position to make Balthazar follow even the most basic orders. 'Lighten up, Cassie' he would simply say and fly off to another part of Heaven, leaving behind a very irritated Castiel.

And Sammandriel…Castiel would have sighed if he was in a human vessel. The youngest member of their garrison, who already had been very closed off and shy, had become even more guarded. Long amounts of time could pass by without any kind of life signal from the little angel. And Castiel simply had not the time to pay more attention to the other.

He sometimes wondered why Anael had done this to them. He knew that he shouldn´t; that, as far as any angel should be concerned, Anael ceased to exist when she ripped out her grace and tumbled towards earth. But why would she choose to become human? She had been an angel! A perfect being created by God to carry out his will; eternal, graceful, mighty, immortal and with the knowledge that the Father existed and had bestowed his love upon them. So why would she leave all that behind for the short uncertainty that was a human´s life? One day, if – no, when – her human soul entered Heaven Castiel would seek her out and ask her. And maybe then his garrison would turn back into what it had been before.

A small tug in his grace alerted him that Zachariah wanted to speak to him. With one last glance towards Earth Castiel took flight and vanished back into Heaven.

* * *

><p>The man wouldn´t stop screaming. You would think after several hours of being subjected to the worst of torture his vocal chords would snap. But no, after having his nails pulled off, his every bone in his hand broken, his kneecap drilled through by rusty nails and his hair burned to crisp, the man still continued to scream; a pitiful, high-pitched sound, sometimes interrupted by sobs that made his whole body shake. The begging had stopped after the third finger had been completely pulverized because by then the pain had become so overbearing that the man was no longer able to form coherent thoughts, much less articulate any kind of words.<p>

Azazel massaged his temple. He loved his daughter – insofar a demon could – like a child, he really did, but her penchant for senseless torture to pass time irked him sometimes. 'Meg' she wanted to be called, like the vessel of the girl she currently was possessing. Why; he didn't know. Some demons only possessed woman, others always tortured nuns and his daughter wanted to be called by her vessel´s name. So who was he to pass judgement? As long as she did as she was told to he would not complain.

"Meg," he called, supressing his annoyance at his daughter´s antics. The blonde girl turned around. A maniac grin was etched in her face and her pitch-black eyes shone with sadistic glee. Her blond bob was no longer orderly for some strands of her hair fell freely in her face, emphasizing the deranged impression she gave to the onlooker.

"What, Daddy?" she asked in a sweetly-sick tone which didn't really matched with her look.

"Silence your little…pet," Azazel ordered her in controlled voice. "His pathetic screams are deleterious to my thoughts."

"As you say," Meg answered cheekily and mock-bowed to him. He did not take action against her insolent behaviour for it was just a facet of her persona. But should it become more…Meg would not like the consequences.

The female demon turned around to where the man was constrained on a chair. With one fast move, indiscernible to human eyes, she stuck her hand into the man´s mouth and pulled it back. With a quiet and wet sound the man´s tongue was torn out of his mouth. Immediately his screams stopped. But not because he was no longer screaming; his mouth was still wide open, blood pouring over his lips down his chin. Pure agony was etched on the man´s face; his pupils so wide that the black nearly swallowed the colour around it. The man shook violently, probably trying to escape his constraints, but it was all to no avail: The iron chains and Meg´s demonic powers held him firmly in place.

"Thank you," Azazel said and smirked.

"But now he´s no longer interesting," Meg pouted. "The screams are the best thing!" She shrugged with her shoulders and turned back to him. "So, what´s new about little Sammy?" Meg asked quite giddy. Her moods changed faster than a toddler´s. "When can I meet my little half-brother?"

"You will not go near him until I say so, is that understood?!" Azazel said firmly. Meg just nodded, obviously noticing that he was serious.

"He is currently at Stanford University," he continued to explain. "He being separated from his father and brother is something we can and will exploit to furthest extent. Without them he will be more susceptible to outside influence than ever before. We just have to make sure that it is the right kind of influence, don´t we?" He grinned; an action that was mirrored by the other demon. "And that´s where you will come in." Meg raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"You have a mission for me?" she asked pleased. Azazel nodded.

"I want you to take on of the low-level demons, travel with him to Stanford and insert said demon into Sam Winchester´s circle of friends," he stated. "Don´t haste! Wait and observe him and when you see a chance take it. This is of uttermost importance! The demon you´ll chose has to be able to perfectly blend in a human environment. No sadism, no torture; nothing abdominal. Nothing that would make Samuel even remotely suspicious. Do you understand how much trust and responsibility I lay on you?"

"I won´t disappoint you," Meg said with something akin to religious fervour. "I already have the perfect demon in mind for this assignment." She grinned.

"So I won´t have any need for that anymore, will I?" Meg continued and pointed towards the man.

"You probably won´t," Azazel confirmed. Meg snipped with her fingers and with a loud crack the man´s neck broke.

"I´ll make you proud, Daddy," Meg said and walked out of the hall. Azazel stood behind, completely motionless. Then a small smile made it onto his face. All his plans were going perfectly. Soon his master would be free and demon kind would reign supreme!

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: Hello my dear readers!

As you have probably noticed there wasn´t any appearance of either Dean or Lucifer. I currently have to contemplate about what should happen next on their storyline and instead of forcing you to wait for that I decided to switch the spotlight to some other characters that won´t appear anytime soon in the main story. Hope you liked it ;)

I decided to add an 'Interlude' after every story arc, so if you want any other characters from the SPN-verse to show up (or if you simply want to write a review) just write it in the box below!

Until next time.


	10. Singer Salvage Yard

"You look like you are in need of company." The woman was brunette and short. Her tight black top with a white lightning bolt on it showed too much of her cleavage and her voice had an unpleasant nasal background to it as if you talked to someone arrogant. Her lower lip was penetrated by a silver metal stud which made her lips look like they were permanently pouting and too much silverware decorated her neck. Uninvited she sat down in front of Lucifer and eyed him without trying to hide it. Lucifer scowled at her.

"What makes you think that?" he asked her while simultaneously imagining thousand different ways to kill her in a most gruesome manner. Impaling on hot iron or throwing her into boiling water were currently fighting for the top spot. How dare this hairless ape speaking to him as if she was his equal! Even going so far as…hitting on him! Oh, how Lucifer wished he could kill her for this profanity.

"Maybe I am contemplating how to kill everyone in this diner without anyone escaping," he continued. The brunette laughed at him, obviously thinking he was joking.

"Why would a handsome man like you have such thoughts?" she purred and leaned over the table further showing Lucifer the hidden depths of her décolleté.

"I would start with you," Lucifer ignored her. "I would ram this knife into your heart. Before anyone would notice that I just murdered you I would dash to the doors, locking them. Meanwhile the first guest would notice you slumped over the table, blood soaking into the tablecloth, your lifeless eyes staring into his, and – because the guest next to us is an elderly woman – would start screaming and probably have a fatal heart attack. Until the other guests would finally notice what´s going on, I would have already killed the family over there, bashing their children´s heads on the table and killing the parents with the knifes on their table. That only leaves five other guests, who – in their panicked state – won´t be able to put up any kind of resistance or escape plan; not that there is possibility for any, seeing that the owner of this establishment has only installed one door to save money. While they would scramble away from me to preserve their pathetic lives I would take the kitchen knife the cook is currently using and stab one after another. Within five to seven minutes everyone in this diner would be dead and no one would mourn them." While Lucifer had talked the woman´s face had slowly turned white and her eyes became wider and wider in horror the further Lucifer elaborated.

"You´re a sick bastard!" she hissed at him and stormed away. Lucifer just smirked. That was the exact scenery Dean found when he returned from the bar with a beer in one hand and a bottle of water in the other. He looked at the leaving woman, then to Lucifer.

"Wow," he said as he sat down, "What have you done to that chick? She looked as if you´ve told her that you planned to murder everyone here." Dean made a gesture encompassing the whole room. Lucifer´s smirk grew wider as he heard Dean´s word.

"Now you´re freaking me out," Dean chuckled. "Why haven´t you tapped her?" Lucifer sobered immediately.

"I have certain standards which this woman failed to meet," he sneered derogatorily. "She was truly pathetic." That he would never – even at his lowest – derogate himself to another human´s touch was left unsaid.

"Harsh words," Dean said and nibbled at his beer.

"Harsh, but true," Lucifer replied while gazing at his water. Within him he could feel the tiny bit of Grace that had been restored previously. It wasn´t much – next to nothing compared to his Archangel status – but its warmth that flowed through his body soothed Lucifer more than he cared to admit. It wouldn't do much; it couldn't heal nor could it be used against a foe in any effective way, but it was testament to the fact that Lucifer still was an Angel and that he possessed something that humanity never would and what made him their better. Lucifer didn't know what caused the sudden increase of Grace within him: He had been near death, in clear emotional distress and Dean, his only change at getting back at Michael and his father had been in grave danger. So, what had it been? That was what Lucifer had mulled over the last few days.

"You´re doing it again," Dean commented, pulling Lucifer out of his thoughts. "This whole 'I-am-in-deep-thought-about-something-philosophical'-thing. You have this certain expression when you do it. It´s kind of funny." Lucifer´s expression soured when Dean at Dean´s description. He could not have it that the human was able to discern his body language so easily. It was the fault of this human vessel and his near-human status. When he had been at full power no-one would have been able to anticipate him. He had been regal and awe-inspiring. And now every lowly human was able to deduce what he was thinking only because his human vessel betrayed him by showing his weaknesses to everyone that looked.

"And now you´re mad that I mentioned that I have a name for that face," Dean said cheekily and grinned. He was about to add something to his statement when his mobile rang. Dean looked at the display and his eyes widened.

"I have to take that," Dean said and rushed out of the diner. Lucifer kept sitting at the table and watched Dean talking animatedly to someone. At first he whispered, one hand covering the earpiece, than he shouted angrily with narrowed eyes. Then the person at the other end seemed to say something and Dean´s expression morphed into that of a scolded child while his whole posture sunk together. Before Dean hung up the other person seemed to say something nice for he began to smile and the tension in his posture lessened.

When Dean came back Lucifer pretended to study the inscription of his bottle of water and wondered if the humans were smart enough to recognize that the water which was sold to them at horrendous prices was practically the same as the one that came out of their faucets. From what he knew about humanity, he doubted it.

"Who was that on the phone?" Lucifer asked when it became clear that Dean wouldn't give up the information unprompted. Dean looked up.

"Someone I hadn't thought I would ever hear of again," he answered. "Another hunter. Bobby´s his name. He´s kind of the intelligence guy all hunters call in the States if they want a new hunt. He is like a…friend to me." From the pause and Dean´s fond expression when he mentioned the name Lucifer could deduce that this Bobby-character was probably more than just a friend of his, but he didn't think that further prying would give him any more information. If he had learned anything about Dean the last few days, it was that he valued his privacy and thoughts like no other. He could try again when Dean would be in an emotional more unstable state and more likely to give in into his demands of more private information.

"He wants me to meet us," Dean continued. "He wants to meet you and make you do all those tests everybody has to go through to confirm that you are human and mean no harm to me." Quietly murmuring he continued: "I´m a friggin´ grown man. I can look out for myself." He took another sip from his beer while Lucifer contemplated the situation. This Bobby-persona obviously meant something to Dean and could easily influence him in a way that was detrimental to his own plans. From what Dean had just told Lucifer was already regarded with suspicion by the other hunter and this would probably continue until Bobby had assured that Lucifer wasn't a danger towards Dean. As long as this wasn't the case he would likely continue to warn Dean off of him which – even though it wouldn't make Dean suddenly leave him – would feed a subconscious mistrust which could influence Dean´s future decisions. Lucifer had to prevent that at all costs and the easiest way to do so was to meet this Bobby to assuage his suspicion.

Lucifer wasn't concerned at all about the possibility that the hunter would be able to discover that he wasn't human. Angel´s appearances on earth were seldom and even if they happened often not witnessed by humans. As far as he knew there wasn't any test hunters could do to recognize angels. And even if they had; with the low amount of Grace Lucifer currently possessed he doubted that those test would yield any results.

"It wouldn't do any harm, would it?" Lucifer said. "And if this Bobby has all the information hunters need it would be more than useful for us to pay him a visit. As far as I know we´re still looking for a new hunt. Maybe he has one." Dean seemed to mull over this. Lucifer strongly believed that he would take the bait and consent to his suggestion. Dean wanted this Bobby´s approval if his conflicted expression was anything to go by and if it also brought a new hunt to pursue…how could he say no to that?

"Yeah," Dean said absentmindedly. "You´re probably right. There´s no use in making Bobby unnecessary angry. That man can hold a grudge like no one else." He smiled at the end of his statement, probably remembering something from his past. "Then let´s go!"

* * *

><p>They weren't able to make it to Bobby within one day, so now they were staying at a motel halfway between. Lucifer and Dean had a room each, though they were connected in case something happened. When the clerk had seen them, he had instantly wanted to give them one room with a single double bed. For a short moment a hurt expression flickered over Dean´s face. Within seconds it vanished again and Dean informed the overzealous clerk that they weren´t gay and would have two separate rooms. Lucifer refrained from inquiring about that strange occurrence simply because Dean vanished in his room with only a clipped "Good night" and left Lucifer standing outside.<p>

Said former Archangel was now sitting on the bed and concentrated on his Grace. Lucifer could feel it hum under his skin; that sweet embodiment of his power. He coaxed it; led it to the tip of his fingers. His fingers started to glow and they became somehow transparent so that he could see his Grace swirling around underneath. The golden threads of power were in constant motion: Interweaving and creating complex patterns but then suddenly falling apart only to start anew.

Lucifer watched the spectacle for a while. It was soothing, for it was physical proof to him that there were still parts of his old self buried underneath the sickening humanity he was wrapped in. He concentrated harder on his Grace and slowly started to push it past the confining presence of his body. Slowly an orb of golden light rose from his fingertips, submerging the whole room into a semi-golden glow. It wasn't a very practical application of his Grace and Lucifer could already feel the fatigue setting in, but he kept the light a little longer; basking in its otherworldly glow. Then he vanished it and the room fell into darkness with the streetlights outside the only source of illumination.

Lucifer fell asleep in the hope that soon useless lights wouldn't be the only thing he would be able to summon.

* * *

><p>Lucifer was kind of disappointed when Dean stopped the Impala´s engine on a junkyard. He had imagined that the unofficial head of the American hunters would reside somewhere more dignified and worthy of his status. Not in the midst of the waste of human consumerism in a hut that looked like it would fall apart any minute. At least he wasn't a dilettante when it came to the Supernatural: Lucifer was able to discern many different symbols and traps meant to deny any non-human entity entry into the yard. None of it would have an effect on Angels.<p>

Dean took a deep breath and tried to collect himself.

"No matter what Bobby will demand from you," he began, "do it or he will blast you off his yard with his shotgun. And I don't believe that's something you want to experience." Lucifer had to supress his instinctual answer that he would never submit himself to the will of a dirty human and nodded instead. He would play by even if it meant dirtying himself by interacting with this filth.

His silent consent seemed to be enough for Dean and soon enough they stood in front of the house. The door was opened by an old-looking male human. He wore dirty clothes, littered with stains of oil and other substances. His face was obscured by a brown beard in the same brown colour as his hair on top of which a red cap sat. His brown eyes shone with warmth as he regarded Dean and became significantly colder when he looked at Lucifer.

Lucifer had to hold back a sneer when he looked upon the human whose approval he had to earn. This old, dirty and useless waste of space was to be the person who could unmake all of his machinations? This fat alcoholic – if the empty beer bottles Lucifer could glimpse behind the man were anything to go by – was the one to have a hold over him; Lucifer, the brightest and purest Angel of them all? Lucifer wanted to scream at this injustice but forced a tiny smile on his face instead.

"Bobby!" Dean exclaimed. The man just handed both of them a glass of water.

"Drink," Bobby ordered in a gruff voice and Lucifer bristled at that. But before he could say anything he saw Dean drinking from the glass and so he followed suit. When the water touched his lips Lucifer could feel warmth spreading throughout his whole body; ejecting any fatigue and muscle soreness that was still left over from their long car ride.

_Holy water_, Lucifer deduced, _to test if we were possessed by demons_.

When both he and Dean handed the glasses back without any negative reactions, the tension in Bobby´s stand lessened visibly. But if Lucifer thought that this had been all, he was soon disabused from this notion. Dean and he had to undergo one test after another which became more obscure with each one. All of them failed to oust them as bloodthirsty monsters.

"Come it, you idjit," Bobby said and smiled at Dean while he gave Lucifer a more neutral expression. The hallway they entered was full of many different kinds of knick-knack: broken artefacts, different kind of tools – both for working at cars and on the house – and guns which had been disassembled. At the end of the hallway they turned left into a small kitchenette which opened up to the living room which had been turned into a library.

Now Lucifer could understand why the old man was considered the hunter´s top address for information. All four walls were covered with shelves; the books within often laying atop each other to use as much room as possible. Lucifer recognized many books, many of which he thought humanity did not longer possess. The air smelled of old paper, leather and parchment which contributed to the aura of peacefulness that the whole room exuded. Lucifer´s respect for the old hunter rose by a few notches – he would not instantly kill him when he had his powers back but would let a demon possess the man to get the information that was stored in his mind instead.

"Luke?" Lucifer´s contemplative mood was destroyed when Dean tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around to face the blonde hunter.

"Ehm," said hunter continued, "Bobby and I haven't seen each other for a quite a while, so would it be okay…" He let the end of the sentence unfinished, but Lucifer understood.

"I will browse this magnificent collection of books while you catch up," he said.

"Do you even know how to handle such old books, boy?" Bobby asked and only the lack of Grace hindered Lucifer to instantly smite the insolent human into nothingness.

"Indeed I do," he pressed out instead. Bobby gave him an unimpressed glance but didn't discuss further. Lucifer turned around and walked towards the books. He heard the doors closing behind him.

_Boy_, he thought angrily, _I am older than your whole race of hairless apes; older than this universe itself and you dare to call me boy!_

* * *

><p>When Bobby turned around he didn't say anything for quite a while which automatically put Dean on the defensive (which was probably intended by Bobby).<p>

"So, that´s the new hunting partner?" Bobby asked with raised eyebrows.

"Is anything wrong with him?" Dean asked, suddenly concerned that the test had revealed something which he had failed to spot.

"No, he is as human as you can get," Bobby answered. "So there´s no need to get you panties in a twist. I won´t interfere in your choice of hunting partner as long as they are human." He paused for a few moments. "I´ve heard of what happened with your father…"

"How?" Dean interrupted the older hunter which earned him an annoyed glare.

"Your brother called to inform me," Bobby said, "wanted to let me know that he left the hunter life behind and got into Stanford." Dean swallowed. "I won´t force you to talk about it, because God only knows what a task it is to get a Winchester talking about his feelings, but if you ever need something: Don´t be a stranger, got it?" Dean just nodded. That was exactly why he loved Bobby so much: The man simply understood him. From the moment on he and his brother had stayed at Bobby´s for the first time Bobby had always known what those two boys with a dead mother and a more and more absent father needed; be it books and knowledge for Sam or simply a baseball game for Dean. It meant so much to Dean that there was a place where he would be unconditionally welcomed, no matter how much he screwed up. He wished he could admit that to the older man who was like a second father to him.

"That's enough of this chick-flick," he said instead. Bobby just shook his head and smiled. Then he suddenly turned sombre.

"Your new hunting partner and what happened with your dad weren't the only reasons I called you," he said. "I have a lead on the yellow-eyed-demon."

* * *

><p><strong>AN<strong>: DUMDUM! So what is this lead exactly? And why does Bobby tell Dean and not John? Will there be a heart to heart between Lucifer and Bobby? Follow and find out!

Read my SPN/HP-crossover called "It´s not the End of the World (At least not for me)". It´s already finished but only the first out of two chapters is published. Thank you ^.^


	11. Caged Trust

If you asked Dean what he was feeling at this exact moment you wouldn't get a very precise answer. Elation, fear, anticipation, dread, hate, relief. All those feelings were within his mind and wared for dominance.

The yellow-eyed demon was an integral part of Dean´s life. Nothing that Dean had lived through would have happened without the demon´s interference. Every piece of his life – his 'job', his friends, his knowledge – came from the moment that demon burned his mother at the ceiling. Their destinies were interwoven; one would kill the other because one way or another it would end with Dean facing the yellow-eyed SOB. That was what his whole life led to. There was no Dean Winchester without the yellow-eyed demon.

"Why haven't you told dad?" Dean asked hoarsely. Because that was another certainty in Dean´s life: His father´s obsession with finding the demon that killed his wife. Dean knew that he was determined as well – he wanted to revenge his mother and the life they could have had – but it paled in comparison to the pure hatred and loath his father felt for the entity that destroyed everything dear to him. So why hadn't Bobby told his dad about this lead?

"Don't you think I haven't tried, boy?" Bobby shot back grumpily. "That idjit wouldn't accept any phone calls. His fault for being a moody bitch. Now I´ll tell you and leave you the decision of what to do with the information." Dean swallowed and then nodded.

"There has been a strange murder in Carroll, Iowa," Bobby began to tell. "As far as my contact knows, a local called the fire department because the neighbouring house was burning down. When the firefighters got the fire under control they found a corpse in the house´s nursery, so badly burnt that they had to identify it by its teeth. And the child couldn't be found anywhere. The autopsy report showed that the woman was the mother of said child." Bobby looked Dean straight in the eyes. "That sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

Dean had to swallow because he didn't feel as if he could speak right now. Indeed, it sounded so fucking familiar that he had to suppress the urge to hit the wall with his bare fists. Bobby wouldn't really appreciate that.

"You think it was the yellow-eyed SOB?" Dean asked quietly.

"It´s better than nothing, isn't it?" Bobby retorted back. "It´s quite shady, the whole thing. The police have pegged it down as 'electrical fire' that started in the nursery, killed the child and then the mother. But here´s the thing: The woman was pinned to the ceiling."

Dean didn't say anything. What was there to say anyway? That the police – unable to explain the mysterious death – went with the next best explanation and called it a day? That another family had been destroyed like his was just because a demon had a hard on for burning mothers at the ceiling of their child´s nurseries?

"I´ll – I mean we – look into it," Dean said. Bobby just looked at him with this strange expression he sometimes git. As if Bobby asked himself an important question only he himself could get the answer to.

"You want to take him with you?" the older man asked and there was no need for an explanation who he meant with 'he'.

"Why not?" Dean shrugged. "I´m not stupid, you know? I don't have much experience with demons and from what we could gather this one is an especially nasty and powerful one. Luke is a hunter and he did well the first round. Dad is somewhere out there and Sammy…" Dean didn't need to end that sentence.

"It´s plain stupid to go alone," he added after a while.

"I didn't say that you should go alone," Bobby assuaged Dean. "I just asked if you were sure. Cases like that – they tend to reveal things you would have liked to stay hidden."

Dean understood the hidden warning within Bobby´s words. If he wanted Luke to stay ignorant of his personal life, he should search for another hunting partner that would accompany him. But that was the point: Besides Bobby there was no one Dean was willing to take on this hunt. His dad was unavailable, Sam in college and Luke – Luke was somebody Dean actually felt comfortable with.

Would Dean like that nobody got any knowledge about the tragedy that was the Winchester family? Yes. Was there a high possibility that some parts of said story would be spilt over the course of this hunt? Yes. Was there anyone he would like to have on this hunt other than Bobby or Luke? No, not really.

"I think I better go and tell him that we leave soon," Dean said.

"Yeah," Bobby replied. "You should."

* * *

><p>Night has descended upon the western hemisphere and within it the little house outside of Sioux Falls. No cloud marred the night sky and thus the moon light lit up the lands and illuminated them with its silver light. In one of the windows light still shone. Behind the glass was Bobby Singer´s legendary library of all things supernatural and in one of the armchairs that provided comfort to everyone that entered the room Lucifer sat, bend over a thick volume about the question whether or not Heaven – and with it angels – existed.<p>

Lucifer had to admit that the author of the book had done some miraculous research, seeing that the majority of the occurrences he referred to could indeed be attributed to an angel´s appearance on Earth. But sadly the author came to all the wrong conclusions and finished his book with a passionate rant about the existence of Heaven being nothing than whishing-well of people who were too weak to accept the fact that no higher power cared about humanity and that all suffering in this world did not follow a universal plan with eternal paradise at its end.

It was somehow amusing, Lucifer thought, that the people with more than enough proof that the Supernatural existed were denying the existence of Heaven the most.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for someone who enjoys reading." Lucifer turned his head around and saw Bobby Singer standing in the doorway that led to the hallway and the other rooms in the house.

"I wouldn't have guessed," Lucifer replied evenly and put the book on the nearby table. If his guess was correct – and his guesses were so more often than not – then the old man had come to test him regarding his intentions towards Dean. From what he had gathered over the last day Dean regarded the older man as some kind of father figure and obviously this sentiment was returned by the retired hunter, who now sought reassurance that Lucifer wouldn't do anything detrimental to Dean.

"I haven't heard anything of you in all the time I´ve done this," Bobby began. "And I´m a very knowledgeable man when it comes to the American hunter community." Lucifer could discern the threat without even really bothering with the statement. The hunter let him know that he had ears and eyes spanning the whole continent and therefore had access to information that could lead to his house of cards crashing down. A smart move.

"Who said that I had any contact with your hunter community before?" Lucifer replied.

"Because that´s how it goes," was Bobby´s reply. "It´s always something personal that introduces people to this lifestyle. And sooner or later you met other people to whom similar things happened and it snowballs from there."

"So you want to know about my personal tragedy?" Lucifer asked with raised eyebrows. "That´s rather forward of you." Bobby just shrugged.

"Over the course of my life I have experienced that straight forwardness often yields the best and fastest results," he commented. Lucifer nodded in consent.

"It was three years ago," he started and while he began to talk he let out a slow tendril of Grace. Slowly it crept forward until it sank into Bobby himself. The manipulation of the human mind was something that Lucifer could manage even with his severely depleted reserves, though outright changing the fundamental character traits of someone was still beyond him. But he was able to intensify what was already in Bobby´s mind.

What Lucifer needed from the old hunter was trust. Trust that he was the best thing for Dean; trust in his ability to protect the other man; trust that he wouldn't stab him in the back or leave him for dead when something went wrong. Lucifer knew that his background story wouldn't hold up to intense scrutiny, but he could compel Bobby into not researching him at all.

"I came home from a party earlier than expected because it got busted by the local sheriff," the archangel continued. Then, within Bobby´s mind, he found what he was looking for: A tiny piece of trust towards Lucifer that was held in check by mistrust, suspicion and outright fear that he meant harm to Dean. Bobby wanted Dean to find someone else beside his family that he could trust, because he knew that more often than not it was Dean´s own family that put him into danger´s path. But life had jaded Bobby and so he wouldn't allow himself to trust anyone he didn't know.

"The first thing I noticed was the lack of noise," Lucifer spoke. "Manuel – my brother – would always listen to some terrible music as loud as he could. It drove my parents up the wall." Here Lucifer added a melancholic smile to make Bobby think that he was thinking about his parents fondly. "But it was quiet that night. Our parents were out, so he could have listened to it without anyone being annoyed at him." Slowly Lucifer used his Grace to push aside the negative feelings that caged the trust within Bobby´s mind.

"Guess what?" Lucifer continued with a hoarse laugh that held no mirth. "You can´t listen to music when a black-eyed monster slowly pulls out your guts after cutting out your tongue so you couldn't scream." _Grow,_ his Grace whispered to the trust and urged it to expand, to lighten up the dark corners of Bobby´s mind. "The demon just stood there, starred at me with its black eyes and then said: 'I think I´ll leave the clean-up to you'. Then it simply vanished." Lucifer watched as the trust grew bigger and bigger. He had to watch out that it wouldn't become too great, lest it could change the hunter´s behaviour irreparably.

"That´s pretty hard stuff," Bobby said, his voice softer than it had been a few minutes before. "And what of your parents?"

"Still living thinking I became a tramp," Lucifer answered nonchalantly. "One son dead and the other could be as well with how much contact there is between us. Maybe one day I´ll go back when I have avenged my brother."

"You shouldn't wait until you have avenged your brother," the older hunter said in gruff voice. Lucifer let his Grave recede, thus severing the connection to Bobby´s mind. He could feel that this little stunt had set him back several days of Grace growth. He still was too weak to use his Grace to do anything grand. "Bonds of family is something you can lose so fast. Best to enjoy them while you still have them." He stood up and walked out of the room.

Lucifer was sure that the older man wouldn't dig further into his supposed past.

* * *

><p>Lucifer and Dean left Bobby´s house the next morning and were on their way to Iowa soon after. They didn't speak much during the drive. A tense silence filled the space in the car, as if it was just waiting for one of the two of them to speak up. Lucifer could see how tense Dean was; his lips pressed into a thin line and his hands gripping the driving wheel so tight that knuckles were white. Something concerning this case was troubling the young human and Lucifer wasn't sure if he should inquire about it or not.<p>

Lucifer hated the fact that he was so unsure – so considerate – when it came to the young hunter´s feelings. Why should he care whether Dean was willing or ready to talk about what was troubling him or not? But he couldn't afford that the hunter would get angry at him for prying into his private business, so the archangel kept quiet and starred at the landscape that passed them by on their way north.

"So, we´re hunting a demon?" Lucifer asked after a while nonchalantly. That wasn't a question that involved Dean´s problem directly but nevertheless could shed some light on his tense attitude.

"Yeah," Dean grunted, not averting his gaze from the road in front of him.

"Anything I should know?" Lucifer asked. That would give Dean the choice between telling him what was going on or not. The point was that it would be his choice whether or not to tell Lucifer which could make Dean more willing to share some of his more personal dealings with Lucifer. Maybe Dean had persuaded himself that he could deal with everything on his own, but the truth was that human were created by Lucifer´s father to be social creatures. Deep down Dean probably wanted to share his burden with someone – because no human wanted to be alone in his misery – but he never could.

Dean didn't say anything for a while. Lucifer was resigned to the fact he probably wouldn't get any information until the hunt itself when Dean began to speak.

"Your brother was killed by demons, wasn't he?" he started and Lucifer nodded.

"My mother was as well," Dean continued. "The demon we´re hunting was the one who killed her."

"We should ensure then that he won´t make it out of town, shouldn't we?" Lucifer smiled at the other hunter.

Dean smiled back.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So sorry that it took me so long to update this, but here I am, back on track! It's just a filler chapter – sorry again <strong>** – but next time we will have some big confrontations and revelations. Though, whether Lucifer is one of them remains to be seen *cue mysterious background music* **

**To ward off the question: "Why didn't Lucifer manipulate Dean`s mind?" Simply, Lucifer was – and still is – pretty weak; on near human level. Even tweaking Bobby´s mind just that little had an enormous cost for him (Spoiler: That will have some pretty negative repercussions for him along the line) and Dean as vessel for the strongest archangel can´t be manipulated that easily. **

**Besides, in the long run cultivating genuine trust will give Lucifer better benefits and he knows that. **


End file.
